


Craigslist

by Llewcie



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Spacedogs - Fandom
Genre: Adam knows he isn't, Anal Sex, Craigslist, Fluff and Angst, Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, Nigel gives Adam a ride on the Triumph, Nigel thinks he's broken, Not that kind of ride, Oral Sex, Prompt Fic, Spacedogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5054350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llewcie/pseuds/Llewcie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: (Gen or slash) After Beth leaves Adam, he thinks about how to deal with everything on his own - selling the apartment, packing for California, communicating with people there - and decides to post an ad on Craiglist. He’s looking for someone who can “take care of things” for him - things that are “messy” and “complicated”. Nigel answers the ad, expecting to be hired as a contract killer. He ends up becoming a very odd version of Jeeves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AxmxZ (Boanerges)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boanerges/gifts).



> Prompt from AxmxZ who has written an amazing list of prompts on their tumblr. Thank you-- you are creative and brilliant!

Adam squinted over the ad. 

"LF person who can help me move to California, find an apartment and a job, and help me adjust to life there. I have Asperger's Syndrome and dealing with people is difficult for me."

He sighed, and deleted the last sentence. Too much information, and off-putting. He wanted his personal assistant to meet him before deciding what kind of person he was. He wanted a chance to be known for who he was rather than what he had. Harlan had told him that was important, and he knew it was good advice, not just because Harlan said it. He wished briefly that Harlan was here to help with this, but he knew he had to begin to live on his own. His failed relationship with Beth had been the beginning of this, and had given him the confidence to continue. Mostly. 

Adam turned his attention back to the ad, which now read, ""LF person who can help me move to California, find an apartment and a job, and help me adjust to life there." He like the idea of personal assistant, so he added that. He deleted 'California' on the off-chance that his plans might change in the interim. He didn't even know what city he wanted to go to yet. He also realized that perhaps he should be a little more general, to invite a wider pool of people to answer the ad. He thought he should encourage someone who would not spread his business around, too. Not that anything was secret, but Adam wanted to let his friends and acquaintances know in his own time. That the person could go with him to California was essential, at least to get him set up, so he needed to mention that. And he decided, rather than naming a price, that could be open to discussion.

There. After several iterations, it now read, "LF personal assistant who is experienced with complicated situations.  I require help with several different problems.  Discretion is important.  Ability to travel is necessary. Generous pay.  Please contact at adamlovesspace@gmail.com." He nodded to himself. This ad would garner the attention of a competent person, but wasn't specific enough to eliminate people who didn't have experience with certain things, like moving a house. He imagined that between them, they would be able to accomplish whatever needed done.

He posted the ad, and realized it was slightly past time for supper. He rose immediately to put his macaroni in the microwave. Hopefully by tomorrow morning, he would have several replies and then the process of elimination would begin. He smiled, pleased at his accomplishment, and didn't give it another thought for the rest of the night.

***

Adam was out of bed with his alarm, as normal, but with the added frission of nerves. He made himself complete his morning routine before he checked his inbox, but he may have eaten his cereal a bit more quickly than normal. When he checked his inbox, he had three replies.

The first was from a person named "Big Burger" and asked for pay up front. Adam didn't really think that was very polite. The second was from a Ms. Sweek and also asked for pay up front, as well as a picture of his dick. He worried at his top lip, wondering if his ad had been a little too vague. He decided not to open the attachment entitled "tityfuk.gif" no matter how well protected his computer was against all incoming attacks. He deleted it.

The third had a simple message.

From: nigelxrd2223@outlook.com  
To: adamlovesspace@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Craigslist post id 5280235635

Hello Adam,  
I would like to help you solve your problems. Meet me at Grounds Zero in the Bronx today at noon to discuss your situation. If this is acceptable to you, text me a picture of you to xxx-xxx-xxxx so I know who to look for.

Sincerely,  
Nigel

Adam appreciated that Nigel had not asked for pay up front or a picture of his dick, but of his face for recognition purposes. He or she seemed very businesslike and polite, and Adam appreciated that as well. He glanced at the clock. It was well before nine, and he would have plenty of time to take the bus to the Bronx. He smiled to himself. This was the first step to his new beginning. He looked up Grounds Zero, which was a coffee shop like it sounded, and memorized the route of buses to get there. Then he opened his cam and looked right at the little lens rather than at the screen like many people did. The first shot came out blurry-- he had jostled the laptop when he took the picture-- so he tried again. This one turned out fine. His noted that his face was not symmetrical, but he knew that no face truly was. One of his eyes was higher than the other. His ears stuck out. His mouth was crooked. Adam didn't think of his looks very often, but he hoped that he looked trustworthy and not frightening. With a burst of courage, he shared the picture to his phone and then texted it back to Nigel, and then he prepared himself for the long trip from the West End to the Bronx.

***

Nigel's phone pinged in his back pocket. He excused himself from the meeting he had been trapped in since fucking eight in the fucking morning and walked out the door. He hoped this thing with Adam was a legitimate job, because he could do with getting away from New York for a while. Maybe a long while. Maybe forever, he ruminated darkly as his mind rolled over the long and painful logistics meeting he was having to endure. He was a simple man, and the upkeep on this current venture was getting on his last nerve. He swept out of the alley door with a cigarette already between his lips and unlocked his phone to check his messages and see what this Adam person was about.

New number. One message. He opened it. 

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=28v93js) 

So that was Adam. Nigel felt his heart stall a little, just a tug. This was a boy, a băieţandru, this milk-white doe-eyed kid. What the fuck did a boy like this need with a contract killer? Perhaps a lover gone crazy, or…? Nigel pursed his lips; thought maybe he could go crazy over someone like this. He allowed himself a moment to study the boy's perfect imperfect mouth, his delicate ears angled outwards, his messy curls. He wondered what color Adam's eyes were. And then he forced himself to stop wondering. This was a job, a fucking job, not a date. Not that Nigel dated guys, ever, although he had fucked a few. All he had to do was meet the guy, help him out with whatever he needed, and then he'd get paid and be gone. 

His phone pinged again. It was Adam. Nigel ignored the spike in his heart rate, because what the fuck was wrong with him? Adam texted, "What do you look like, Nigel?"

Oh, fuck no. He gritted his teeth, biting down on the filter of his cigarette, and texted back. "I'll find you, Adam. You can see me then." No way was he sending out a pic of his face to a stranger, especially a stranger who looked like Adam. Even if all the charges had been dropped. 

His phone pinged almost immediately. "Nigel, please send me your picture. I would feel better knowing what you look like, because if I see you and you don't see me, then I will know who you are. Please, Nigel."

Nigel frowned at his phone. What was wrong with this kid? Was this a setup? It didn't smell like one, and his senses were honed for that sort of thing. Nigel didn't make a habit of cruising craigslist for jobs-- he had just been bored and edgy and had done it for shits and grins. Maybe this kid had a stalker who he was trying to avoid. Nigel debated, and then caved, disgusted with himself. Fine, he would take a shot of his ugly mug and scare this beautiful kid off, and then he wouldn't have to go all the way out there today. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth, snapped a selfie and scowled at it, sending it off rather than think any more about it. Fuck.

***

Adam's phone pinged. He was on the Bx42 through Manhattan, on the first leg of the hour journey. Adam unlocked his phone and opened his messages.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=2hzlgxs)

Oh. 

So Nigel was probably a man, or at least presented to the world a masculine face. Adam took in his sharp cheekbones and silvering stubble, his dark eyes. He swallowed. Nigel looked like a dangerous person. His neck was marked with some kind of tattoo-- a fish? His skin was bronzed in the sun and he was wearing a leather jacket. He was… very attractive. Very, very attractive. Adam didn't know what to do now. His careful plans were confused by this new facet. He didn't think that he would have to contend with his personal assistant being someone he would want to have sex with. If Nigel would even consider having sex with a man. A man like Adam, who was different from other people. Adam squashed this uncertain thought into the very back of his head and slammed a lid down on it. He could feel his anxiety begin to spiral, and he began gently stimming, his finger tapping against the window, just to soothe himself a little. Now he had to write Nigel back, to acknowledge the picture. He tapped the text window, and wrote, "Thank you. You are very attractive, Nigel." He tapped send before he could reconsider. His stimming sped with the nervous thundering of his heart.

***

Ping. Nigel was on his second cigarette, knowing he was being missed at the meeting, but he didn't care. He opened Adam's new message. He read it twice. 

It could mean nothing. The word 'attractive,' combined with the word 'very,' could mean a dozen different things. Was this kid coming on to him? Did he want to get into Nigel's pants? Was he just stating a fact? The message was so toneless that it gave him nothing to go on. Furthermore, did Nigel want Adam in his pants? He frowned at his phone until the sound of heavy footsteps caught his ear. "Nigel! You ever comin' back? Boss is wondering where the fuck, Nigel." Nigel sighed, closed his eyes to summon patience, and tucked his phone away. The mystery of Adam could wait, even if he didn't want it to. He turned and trudged back inside, his mind turning the puzzle over and over while he attempted to look attentive. The clock ticked past 11, and Nigel clenched his hands into fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> băieţandru- stripling, youth


	2. Chapter 2

Adam was at Grounds Zero at five minutes to noon. He studied the faces in the room without meeting anyone's eyes but no one resembling Nigel was there yet. Adam thought about texting him, but then considered that he might be busy. Nigel had made the meeting time noon. If he did end up hiring him, he would need to trust Nigel to do the things he promised to do. The depth and breadth of that loomed in Adam's mind. He was accustomed to controlling every possible facet of his days, his mind easily overwhelmed by deviations. How then was he going to turn over the ordering of his life to someone else? His dad had respected his schedule, had helped him build it, and Harlan had helped to maintain it for him. Now Adam was considering bringing a stranger, someone who didn't know him and his needs, in to negotiate with the world for him. What if Nigel couldn't understand what Adam needed? Even more so, why would he? This was a mistake. This was a mistake. He could call Harlan and ask him to come rescue him. His hand gripped the edges of his phone, fingers flexing and relaxing against the smooth edge of it as he sat immobile in the hardback café chair.

It was necessary to breathe, so he went inside himself to find the strength to do so. The external noise and bustle fuzzed a little, just at the edges, as he sank down into himself. His heartbeat thudded in his ears. His lungs filled with warm, coffee-scented air, and then emptied of that same air. His fingers traced the edge of his phone as the other hand tapped staccato on his knee. As his mind calmed, he thought of Beth. He thought hard about her, and the impetus that moved him to decide he could live on his own, out in the world full of neurotypicals and loud noises. He reminded himself that he did not need rescuing, because he was here through his own agency, to meet a person who might be able to assist him. If Nigel wasn't an appropriate fit, he would politely decline his help. And then, maybe, he could ask him if he would like to have a soda. But he did not need to be rescued. 

Once his mind was calmed, he allowed himself another look around the room, and then at the digital clock on his phone. Nigel was now four minutes late by atomic time. Adam considered that perhaps Nigel didn't know about atomic time. If he decided to hire Nigel, he would tell him about it, so that their clocks would always be the same. This pleased him, the thought of being aware of the exact time as another person. A soft smile tilted his lips upward. Feeling better, Adam went up to the counter, imagining he might order a coffee. The menu was written in white on a black background. Adam scanned it carefully. Mocha, latte, Americano… iced coffee, but where was the plain coffee? Was it socially appropriate to ask for something not on the menu? He theorized that Columbia and Kona might be types of coffee but he wasn't absolutely certain. The barista, a young person of indeterminate gender, was staring at him, a single eyebrow slowly rising. Adam knew that staring might signal fear, interest, sexual attraction, or the desire to intimidate. A single eyebrow up could be a signal of disbelief, or impatience, or curiosity, or a question. He shook his head once, hoping the barista was not trying to intimidate him or express sexual attraction. That would not be good for business. If the eyebrow was raised in question, perhaps the barista could be persuaded to explain the process of ordering. The uncertainty of it made his belly spike with anxiety and for a second time, he began to regret coming out. The thought of meeting Nigel was suddenly overwhelming. He turned his back to the barista and the ordering counter with half a thought of leaving, of going home and curling up into his bed. The bus could take him home; he wouldn't have to bother Harlan.

Nigel was sitting in the seat he had vacated, watching him. Adam's mind went blank, immediate thought processes kicked out in favor of a reboot. For a long moment he stood perfectly still. Nigel was here. Nigel had seen him. Adam could not retreat now. His mind had carried him this far and now had abandoned him. He thought he might say something, like hello, but no words came from his throat. 

***

Nigel took in the sight of him, standing in the middle of a coffee shop, blocking the flow of traffic and seemingly totally oblivious to the people trying to move around him. His large grey eyes were focused slightly beyond Nigel, and his nostrils flared with his steady breathing, but that was the only sign he was even alive. Nigel rose slowly from the chair, reminded of prey animals in the presence of a predator, how they stood completely still in the hopes that they would not be seen. Nigel was accustomed to being the meanest fucking predator in the room, and he had seen people go still like this before. Usually when he was threatening them with violence. He stepped toward Adam, lifted a hand to him with unaccustomed gentleness. "Hello Adam," he ventured.

Like a sunbeam through a crack in the clouds, a smile broke out over Adam's face, and just like that, he was beautiful. "Hello, Nigel." His voice was soft and young. Fuck, how young was he? In the picture he looked to be at least old enough to drink but now Nigel wasn't so sure, with him standing and smiling like the fucking sun. His features were even more delicate now that Nigel could take in his slender body, hips more narrow than his shoulders by a fraction. Nigel was ambushed by the desire to take hold of him, something vaguely protective and recognisably possessive. He managed to channel that into holding out his hand for Adam to take, so that he could pull him out of the middle of the floor. Adam's eyes dropped to Nigel's hand, seemed confused for a moment, and then slowly took it. His palm was icy against Nigel's warm skin. Nigel tugged him gently back to the table, and into a chair.

"Adam, are you alright? Because you don't look fucking alright." Adam blinked at the expletive, his smile falling. Nigel felt the loss, because that kind of smile was something he hadn't seen in a very long time. 

Adam shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Nigel narrowed his eyes. "Why are you sorry, Adam? Have you… changed your mind about needing my services? Is that it?" And wouldn't that be fucking typical. Beautiful, fragile kid like this takes one look at him and runs for the fucking hills. He kept his voice low, so fucking certain this kid was about half a tick from sprinting out the door. And Nigel didn't want him to run. Nigel wanted him to stay, even for a little while, and he couldn't put the words together as to why except that he wanted to see Adam smile again. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Adam blinked at him, took a deep breath into his lungs, and said, "Nigel. I didn't say that. I said that I am sorry because I'm not any good at this." He frowned down at their hands, and only then did Nigel realize he hadn't let go. "I don't even know how to order coffee," he confessed.

Adam's voice was curiously flat, like he was reading from a page. Nigel latched on to the last part, as a way to maybe salvage this. "What kind of coffee do you want, Adam?"

Adam's eyes narrowed back at him. "I don't think I want coffee anymore. I didn't see coffee on the menu at all, and now it's past noon and probably too late to be drinking coffee because the caffeine will disrupt my sleep schedule."

Nigel frowned, thought about dropping Adam's hand, and immediately dismissed the thought. If he was hanging on to Adam, Adam couldn't run. He decided to tackle the most inconsequential of Adam's problems first. "What do you mean there's no fucking coffee on the menu, Adam That's all there fucking is." Adam tugged his hand away, an unhappy downturn to his lips. Nigel sighed, squeezed his fingers into a fist. "What do you want," he repeated. "I'll get it for you."

Adam shook his head, his fingers tapping on the table. "This was a bad idea. I'm sorry, Nigel, that you c-came all the way out here. I'm sorry." He stood so abruptly that his chair fell backward, and he was out the door before it hit the floor. Nigel knocked his own chair back getting up and followed him out, ignoring the staring. But by the time he cleared the crowd at the door, Adam was nowhere to be seen. 

"Fuck!" Nigel tugged out his phone as his eyes flitted over the street corner, the shop windows, the alleyways. He texted quickly, figuring the jittery little kid might ignore a call but check a text. _"How can I help you if you won't tell me what you need?"_ Then he stood at the corner to wait, tugging a smoke out of the half-empty pack in his breast pocket. He waited a tense half minute, eyes restlessly scouting, before it pinged.

_"I am not good with people. That's why I need help, Nigel."_

Nigel grinned. Adam wasn't entirely flown. He texted, _"I am very good with people. Tell me what you need."_

Adam sent back, _"I need many things. You don't seem to be very good with people."_

 _"Why do you say that, Adam?"_ he rejoined. What the fuck did this kid know? He was fucking great with people. People fucking loved him, right up until the moment when they didn't.

"I'm not stupid, Nigel, even if I don't know how to order a coffee. I know many things. I know about stars. I know about computers." The tense voice came from behind Nigel, and he turned to look into Adam's face. Adam's expression was wary rather that open, and Nigel felt a spike of guilt that he was the cause. He took a deep, calming breath.

"Adam. I am…" Gods, he was going to say it; what the fuck was happening to him? "-- _sorry_ that I hurt your feelings. I wasn't trying to fucking hurt you, okay? I was just… surprised. Is all." He held up a placating hand, ready to grab Adam if he tried to run but also trying to soothe him. And himself, maybe, because he could count the number of people he remembered apologizing to on one hand. With fingers left over. He scrubbed his other hand through his hair and thought a moment, while Adam simply looked at him, or rather, at his shoulder. Nigel tried to dip his head to make eye contact, but Adam shied away from him. "I'm not gonna fucking hurt you, alright?"

***

They stood on a busy corner in the Bronx, with cars and buses rumbling by on the street, and the crush of people parting for them, for Nigel's imposing figure. Adam stood in his wake, heart slowing and calming, and ordered his thoughts to form the simplest of process trees-- listing knowledge.

> 1\. Adam needed help.  
>  2\. Nigel was still here. He hadn't abandoned Adam at the first sign of strangeness.  
>  3\. Nigel was not going to hurt him. He said so, and had done nothing to make Adam believe otherwise, even if he had insulted him a little by accident.  
>  4\. Nigel had said he was sorry for insulting him, even when it was an accident. Most people would not apologise; they would rather blame Adam for not reacting in the way they expected.  
>  5\. Nigel was very attractive, even more in person than he had been in the picture. (This thought had never actually left his mind.)

Adam took a deep breath in the space that Nigel made for him, and then another. He nodded, and watched Nigel's hand sink away from where it had almost tightened against his arm. He made his decision, even as his heart raced for it. "Nigel, it would be more convenient for us to discuss the job I am hiring you for at my apartment." He added, "I really want to go home now."

Nigel sighed and nodded in what Adam thought might be relief. He had seen Harlan sigh like that when he and Adam came to an agreement after a long and frustrating discussion. He realized that he had just implicitly agreed to hire Nigel, and that Nigel had implicitly accepted the need for further negotiation. Adam felt a surge of pride, and he smiled at Nigel. Nigel returned a grin, and lifted both eyebrows at him, lowering his chin to look at Adam through his long lashes. Both eyebrows lifted signaled interest, and combined with a smile conveyed a positive emotion, possibly approval. Looking at a person through lowered eyes was a signal of flirtation. Adam thrilled to think that Nigel might want to be flirtatious with him, even though he knew that it didn't necessarily mean that Nigel was sexually attracted to him. Still, it was a good look, and thrummed warm against Adam's ribs. Nigel spoke. "I can do you one better, Adam. I can take you home." 

"Oh! Do you have a car, Nigel?" When Nigel laughed and put his broad hand on Adam's shoulder, Adam didn't even flinch.

***

"Nigel, this isn't a safe mode of transportation." Adam stood with his arms wrapped around himself, fingers stimming on one bicep. Nigel scoffed at him.

"Darling, I promise you'll be safe as houses. I have a helmet for you. Just hold on to me and we'll be home in no time." Adam closed his eyes at the mention of home. Nigel was going to take him home, and he wouldn't have to ride the bus, or negotiate with people. He would just have to hang on to Nigel's broad back. Nigel who had called him 'darling.'

"My name is Adam," he reminded Nigel, just in case he had forgotten. Nigel showed teeth in what was likely good humor, and Adam automatically smiled back at him. He accepted the helmet that Nigel handed to him, and then allowed Nigel to fit it over his head. It smelled warm inside, like cigarettes and something that Adam liked but couldn't put a name to. When Nigel lifted a leg over the motorcycle (Triumph Thruxton MY15 with an air-cooled parallel-twin engine, 865cc's, five speed) Adam reached a hand to touch his shoulder, and then pulled immediately back. "Where is your helmet, Nigel? You will need a helmet as well."

Nigel looked at Adam's hand, and then his face framed by the visor. "I don't need a helmet, Adam. I'll be keeping you safe." 

"Statistically motorcycle crashes where the rider was not wearing a helmet end in death, Nigel. Your safety is important to me. I-if you are going to be working for me, I will need you to be safe." Adam had a pretty solid idea that his wanting Nigel to be safe had little to do with working for him, but he decided not to mention that. Nigel gazed calmly back at him, and Adam felt himself climb on the back of the Triumph without totally understanding why.

"I will get myself another helmet, Adam, when I get you home." Adam could feel Nigel speak now, pressed against his back, the cradle of his hips tight against Nigel's ass and his arms sliding of their own accord around Nigel's ribs. He suddenly understood why people in movies did this. He nodded, wanting to not talk anymore, to just feel and be taken home.

"Promise me Nigel."

"I promise, darling."

He intended to remind Nigel again of his name, but his words were stolen away as Nigel leapt away from the curb in a burst of speed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that is Hannibal's motorcycle, of course! Your notes of encouragement are angels singing Romanian power ballads in my ear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am thrilled and astonished at the response this fic has gotten. I almost cried this morning when I saw kudos had doubled overnight. Thank you for taking the time to do so-- I can't put in to words how much it means. Also, AxmxZ, thank you!

Their passage home was made of Adam squeezing the breath out of Nigel, shouted inquiries, and some considerable confusion before Nigel figured out he could follow the route of the bus Adam had taken from Manhattan. Once they were on familiar ground, Adam guided him with pointed fingers and tugs to the sleeve of his jacket. In under an hour they were pulling up to a very nice brownstone in the Upper West Side, only a few blocks from Central Park. Nigel mentally upped his price, and then upped it again as Adam guided him up the stairs and through the heavy door into a huge apartment. For a moment, Nigel just stared to take it all in. His little shitbox apartment could fit in Adam's kitchen. Big, clean windows looked out over the city, with the park visible in the distance. The walls were white and held bookshelves full of books, not those fancy vases with a single flower in them. A small hallway led to three separate doors. Adam had a table in his kitchen, and a couch and loveseat in the living area. Suddenly, the thought of returning to his dark squalid walk-up was intensely unappealing.

Adam was pulling a can of soda from the fridge. He sat down at the table, looked at Nigel expectantly, and then creased his forehead. "Would you like a soda, Nigel?"

Nigel would rather have had a beer, but he was technically working, so he nodded instead, finding words elusive. Adam rose from the table and got another soda out of the fridge. Nigel sat across the table from Adam, and felt the ghost of him still hot against his back. Adam had clung like a baby possum, strength in long fingers pressed around Nigel's ribs, and his breath had burned even through Nigel's jacket where his face hand been pressed sightless in between Nigel's shoulder blades. When they had finally pulled up to Adam's place, for a moment Nigel thought he would have to draw Adam's legs around his waist and heft him up off the bike, and he was surprisingly okay with that thought. In fact, he was perfectly fine this afternoon with things that had previously, even just this morning, been _not fine_ \-- had any other man squeezed up against him like Adam had, so tight that Nigel could feel the heat from Adam's inner thighs and crotch against his ass, there would have been blood. 

Not only was there no blood, but Nigel could only grin in bemusement at Adam's exhilaration at having survived the entire ordeal. When he had finally, shakily swung his leg over the back of the bike, he had hugged Nigel. Hugged him, his entire body vibrating with the stress of having clenched every single muscle for the whole 40 minute ride from the Bronx, and his face was lit up with an exuberant joy that Nigel had never seen on any face not a child's. Adam just beamed at him for a long moment, and then confessed, breathless, "Nigel. I've never done that before. I liked it. Very much." And then he had tugged off the helmet, handed it to Nigel, and turned to lead him through the door. Now in the large, light-filled kitchen, Adam's curls were plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck, and it was all Nigel could do not to reach out and sweep them back, tuck them behind his ears. His mind supplied him with a memory of doing the same to Gabi, before she had flown. He drank the soda in one breath; an attempt to drown that thought and its implications.

***

Adam sat in the chair across from Nigel and slowly wrangled his thoughts back into order. He was crashing now, the extreme adrenalin burst of the motorcycle ride added to the fear and uncertainty of meeting a new person in a strange location. His whole body trembled, and he didn't know how long before he could no longer communicate effectively. Not long. Nigel was watching him from across the table, he expression unreadable as always, no obvious signals anywhere on his handsome face. He took in a deep breath, drank a sip of his soda. "I don't have much time, Nigel. I hope we can come to an agreement quickly."

Nigel nodded, his eyes narrowed in what Adam identified as being interest, most likely. Or dislike. It might be dislike. Adam clutched the table with both hands, fingers squeezing to press down his anxiety. It wasn't dislike. Nigel had smiled at him, flirted with him, given him a ride on the back of his motorcycle, and come all the way across Manhattan to speak with him. Adam had to trust in these most obvious signals, even though he knew he was frequently wrong, that communication and body language was rarely about the overt. Into Adam's anxious silence, Nigel spoke. "What is it that I can do for you, Adam?" 

Relieved that this was a question he could answer, he said, "I need assistance with several complicated situations. I am moving from this apartment to California. I have lived here all my life, and then my dad died, and my friend Harlan is going to start over, which, I think that's what I'm trying to do. Start over. But there are many things that I don't know how to do. I have a condition called Asperger's Syndrome, and that means a lot of things to people, but for me it means that I can't read people's emotions to figure out what they are thinking, and that makes it hard for me to deal with people. I will need you to deal with people."

Nigel nodded, and a crease formed between his eyebrows. Adam automatically cycled through possibilities-- confusion, concern, deep interest, anger, thoughtfulness? Was Nigel concerned that Adam had Asperger's? Was he interested in California? Was he angry that Adam was asking him to make travel arrangements, or was he concerned whether he could do the job? Did he not want to go to California? Nigel opened his mouth, took a breath, closed it, shook his head, and then spoke. "How many people do you need me to deal with, Adam? Because it matters how many. And are these people all in California, or are they here in New York?"

Adam smiled, pleased that Nigel had asked him information-based questions. "I don't know how many people, Nigel, but I can pay your fee based on the number of people you deal with, if that's what you would like."

Nigel nodded, eyebrows raised. Interest, but without the smile added like before, which could also signal surprise. "That's generally how this works, darling."

Nigel wasn't smiling now, even though he had used the endearment that Adam had previously protested. Adam began to feel he was on uncertain ground, that possibly Nigel wasn't understanding what Adam needed. He frowned, feeling his tiredness like a dragging gravity, his smaller body overwhelmed by the larger earth that he was bound to. "How much per person do you usually receive, Nigel?" he asked instead of clarifying.

"Depending on the person, between 10 and 15. So you see, it's very important that you know what you are asking for."

Adam nodded slowly. He took a stab at his own confusion. "10 and 15 dollars?"

Nigel blinked. "Thousand, Adam. Fucking thousand."

Adam was now positive that something was wrong, that wired had gotten crossed, as his father had used to say. "You charge ten thousand dollars per person?" His agile mind quickly flew through permutations. "That would be… for the realtor here, and the realtor in California, the moving company, my landlord, the employment agencies…" He stopped, his mind too tired to figure out where he had gone wrong. "I can't afford that, Nigel."

Nigel was staring at him now, a cigarette between his lips now but not lit, a blank expression that Adam knew could be hiding a dozen different reactions. "Adam. Why do you want to put a hit out on all those people?"

***

Nigel didn't consider himself the brains of any of the organizations he had been involved with. He was the best at what he did, which was making people afraid and then killing them if they were too fucking stupid to stay afraid. This angel sitting here in front of him had been a misunderstanding. Nigel didn't get good things, and Adam was good. Very fucking good. Confused and beautiful, with the truth dawning over his expressive, delicate face like a horror show. He was shaking his head, reflexively, and his voice barely carried over the roar in Nigel's ears. "I… are you a contract killer, Nigel?"

Nigel sighed. Considered walking out the door and maybe driving around the city the rest of the day, and then going home to his shithole apartment and drinking until his brains washed out his ears. He met Adam's eyes now, and realized they were blue in the soft summer light streaming in the windows. Adam looked away, but only slightly, and he wasn't running for the phone or to slam a door in Nigel's face. His fingers began their tapping again. "I thought from your ad that's what you were looking for, Adam."

Adam's eyes flickered up to his and away again. "It was clearly too vague."

Nigel snorted, humorless. "Complicated situations."

"Situations involving people are complicated to me."

"Yes, I can see that." And maybe that was a low blow, but Nigel was confused and frustrated and maybe a little despondent that Adam wouldn't be hiring him after all. At least the afternoon had been pleasant. Adam frowned at him, and then down at the table, cheeks coloring. Nigel stood, realizing it was pointless to draw this out any more. A kindness. "Don't come looking for me, Adam." More kindness than he should be extending. He walked out the door, down the stairs, mounted his bike, and all the way home felt the shadowy heat of Adam at his back.

***

Adam sat in his kitchen, a half full soda on the table in front of him, and reflected. He considered the misunderstanding, and that Nigel was clearly-- even to Adam-- upset when he left. The injunction that Adam was not to follow him was likely to keep Adam safe, maybe from Nigel himself, and it followed that Nigel did like him and didn't want to see him hurt. Nigel had been very kind, had sheltered him in the street and had let Adam cling to his back on the motorcycle so that he wouldn't fall. Adam had liked the feel of Nigel cradled in his arms and hips. He thought of Nigel looking upwards through his lashes, and the memory made his cheeks flush. He liked Nigel too. Nigel had not made fun of Adam for the misunderstanding. Instead, Adam thought perhaps he was disappointed. Adam was certainly disappointed, so he could be projecting. 

But he didn't think so.

The question was not whether Nigel was capable of doing the job that Adam actually needed done, rather than killing his landlord and various other real estate agents. The question was whether Nigel could be _convinced_ to do the job that Adam actually needed done. Because Adam wanted Nigel to be the one. He had already made so much progress with him that he didn't want to start over with someone new, or have to send pictures of his dick. Nigel knew him, knew where he lived, had sat at his table and drank a soda, and had done all of this because Adam had asked him to. Maybe it was a bad idea. Harlan would absolutely tell Adam that trying to hire a contract killer to help him move to California was a bad idea.

It was a bad idea. It was a _terrible_ idea. 

Adam thought on the problem all the way through the rest of his day. His dinner (macaroni), his shower, his Discovery show about the Orion Nebula, all were accompanied by Adam's thoughts about Nigel. He went to bed still thinking about him, and his dreams were all iterations of the exhilaration of the ride across Manhattan, night replacing day and windows becoming stars.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy wow, you guys are making me cry. Thank you for this waterfall of kudos and comments-- I am smiling like Adam when he looks up at his Nigel, all sunbeams and hearteyes! This chapter gave me NO END OF TROUBLE, so I hope I was finally able to strike the right balance. If not, i'm loosing it into the wild anyway.

Nigel woke to a ping, but it took him a moment to recognise the sound and what it meant. A long moment. He had come home late, going straight from Adam's place to lock up his bike and then to a bar and brothel that he frequented, looking for forgetting. His distress was obvious enough that none of the regulars caught his eye, and the more he drank, the more surly he became, so by the end of the night there was a bubble of space isolating him from the rest of the happy crowd, as if what he had was catching. Somehow without conscious agency, he found himself at his little walk-up, and getting in to bed had been the final burst of energy his body could manage. He slept, smashed and unsettled, and woke up in pain, well into the morning. What had woken him? Adam's burner? He fisted the burner phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket (which he had slept in), confused. Hadn't he thrown this one down an alleyway, or into a bin? The screen flashed an update. Three messages. With a groan and a lick at his dry lips, he thumbed it open.

From Axxx 7:03: Nigel, I apologise for the misunderstanding. I would like to explain what I need, if you are willing to listen.

From Axxx 7:09: Nigel, I would still like to hire you. To help me move to California. Not the other thing. 

From Axxx 8:17: Nigel, are you alright? 

Nigel stared, bleary-eyed, at the little screen, words fading in and out of focus. He ignored the flutter that trembled behind his ribs. He thumbed the last message and attempted to type a reply.

***

From Nigel 9:47: No I told you not to come looking.

Adam shifted guiltily on the bus stop bench, from where he could see Nigel's Triumph chained up in a small cage to the back of a storefront with a walk-up. Technically, it hadn't been a difficult search. There were only 135 Triumph Thruxton MY15s in all of New York, and it was the work of only a few moments to identify the one belonging to Nigel. Adam had a head for numbers (i.e. license plates) and a way with databases, and doors opened to him that were not available to others. Harlan called it hacking. Adam preferred to think of it as accessing public information through unconventional channels. Harlan would tell him he was full of shit. Once he had the registration, looking up Nigel's place of residence was even less challenging. He considered that if Nigel hadn't wanted to be found, he would not have registered his vehicle at the address where he actually lived. So it wasn't 'looking.' That implied searching. 

Ping.  
From Nigel 9:49: Adam are you sitting across the street from my place?

Oh. Adam considered what to say. He considered even as he watched Nigel, in the same clothes he had been in yesterday but definitely worse for wear, striding across the street towards the bus stop where Adam was sitting. Adam appreciated the way he moved, less like a predator now that he was tired and rumpled and more like a man. And then Nigel was standing in front of him, an absolutely incomprehensible expression on his face. Adam smiled up at him. "Hello, Nigel."

"Hello Adam. What the fuck are you doing here? How the fuck did you find me?" Nigel's voice was raw, his eyes dark, and Adam could see he hadn't shaved. Adam decided he would like to touch Nigel's scruff, but he thought he might wait and ask permission later when Nigel wasn't so agitated.

"I found you because your motorcycle is new and still distinctive. I remembered your license plate and got your address from the registration file on the Department of Motor Vehicles database. Then I looked up buses and got on the first one after I finished my cereal this morning."

Nigel just looked at him for a moment, then sighed and tugged a cigarette out of the pack in his breast pocket. He lit it, took a deep drag, and continued to study Adam. Adam was content to study him back, his face uptilted. After two more deep drags, he spoke again. "Isn't that illegal, Adam? I'm pretty certain that's fucking illegal." His teeth were bared in what might be a smile, so Adam smiled again.

"I am surprised that you would make that distinction, Nigel."

"I am surprised that you wouldn't, Adam."

Adam considered how to answer. Certainly, being admonished for doing something illegal by a man who killed people for money was not an outcome Adam had expected. Nigel didn't seem to be angry at him, since he was smiling, but Adam knew that wasn't necessarily the best indicator. People smiled when they were afraid, or angry, or disappointed. A smile was a very unreliable emotional signal, as Adam had discovered through extensive personal experience. He decided to ask, because Nigel had been honest with him until now, and he saw no reason why that would change. "Are you angry with me, Nigel?"

Nigel sighed again, sucked the cherry of his cigarette almost to the crevice of his lips, and held out his hand to Adam. "Let's talk somewhere private, Adam."

Adam hesitated to take his hand, and decided this question was important enough to repeat. "Are you angry?" He didn't know what he would do if Nigel answered in the affirmative. He thought perhaps he would follow Nigel anyway.

Nigel wagged his hand at Adam. "If it were anyone fucking else, Adam, I would be angry. Very fucking angry. But I am discovering that you are the exception. To many things, although I don't know why."

Adam felt encouraged by this, but still unsure. He stood and slid his fingers gently against Nigel's. Nigel gripped his hand, equally gentle. "Does that mean… you are not angry?"

Nigel snorted, his lips upturned on one side of his mouth, a flash of ivory teeth. "I should be, Adam. I fucking should be. But I'm not angry. Okay?"

Adam accepted this. Nigel said he wasn't angry. Nigel had not lied to him. Nigel's hand was warm in his, and Adam liked that feeling. He nodded. "Okay, Nigel. You may take me somewhere private so we can talk." For a long moment, Nigel didn't move, except for his dark eyes which dropped down to their joined hands and then slowly dragged up Adam's body to his face. Adam could watch Nigel's eyes, he discovered, as long as Nigel wasn't looking directly at his own. He know that Nigel could be observing his clothing, or checking him for injury, or displaying sexual interest. Adam was hopeful that Nigel was displaying sexual interest. When they finally walked back across the street, Nigel didn't let go of his hand, and Adam decided that was very promising.

***

Nigel was accustomed to being the predator. He was strong and violent and was equally terrifying with a knife or a gun. His body was mottled with scars. He had perfected a glare that had made men piss their underwear, and a slightly different glare that had men and women dropping them. He was the hunter, the monster. And then Adam came into his life and held his hand and Nigel could feel himself going belly up, brutality fading away in a rush of confusion. This disorientation was not entirely foreign, and Nigel recognized it for what it was. It clenched at him with the same force as it had when he had first heard Gabi play- a sustaining force that had brought him back from the edge of death. He had fucked many, but had only loved the once. And as he tugged Adam up the stairs, he thought that maybe this was what fear felt like-- that finally what he inspired in others had come home to roost at last. How else to explain the hammering of his heart?

Adam followed him through the door and into his tiny living area, dark and dusty and cramped and nothing like Adam's beautiful home. Only then did Nigel remember to drop his hand, and he moved himself to the kitchen to pour himself a whiskey. What was he fucking thinking, bringing Adam here, into his dark, airless life? For a moment, he clutched at his throbbing head with one hand and the whiskey with the other. A soft pressure in the middle of his back made him jump, and immediately Adam pulled away from him. "Are you sick, Nigel? Can I make you tea?"

Nigel snorted gently. " I don't have any tea, darling." 

"I'll bring you some from home. Tea is good for headaches and upset stomachs, and to help you sleep."

The thought that Adam would come here _again_ derailed Nigel's already fragile train of thought. He grasped the closest topic of conversation with both hands. "I thought tea had caffeine in it. How does that help you sleep?"

Adam nodded brightly, his eyes grey in the dim light filtered through dirty windows. "Not all tea does. I drink chamomile tea when I am upset. It's a flower unrelated to the actual tea plant, which is Camellia sinensis and native to China and Tibet and India. Chamomile is from Germany and its scientific name is Matricaria recutita."

Nigel processed this slowly. "So some tea is tea and some tea is flowers?"

Adam nodded even more enthusiastically, clearly delighted that Nigel was engaging him in discussion with something that was interesting to him. "Yes, and some tea is tea that has been cured with a different process. Black tea has been fermented whereas green tea has not been. Black tea has more caffeine but green tea has more antioxidants, making it a better choice for late afternoon."

"And flower tea?"

"You can make tea out of flowers or leaves of some plants. My dad made tea from mint plants he grew in the window. But none of those teas have caffeine." He paused. "Am I boring you, Nigel? I can't tell, and so I often talk too much and make people bored and uncomfortable, but most people are too polite to tell me so I just keep talking, and…" He looked downwards, and Nigel lifted his hand to touch the soft skin under Adam's jaw, tilting his face gently back upwards. Adam didn't meet his eyes, but Nigel was getting used to that.

"You aren't boring me, darling." Adam's eyes fluttered over his face and landed on his mouth, and for a moment Nigel could imagine it, imagine sinking down over Adam's mouth with his own, Adam's lips parting in surprise, even desire. The heat of him, the sweet give of him. He knew now exactly what this was, and was uncertain, that if he would not loathe himself for it, that he would be taking Adam to his bed, pressing his slender, ivory-skinned body down into the unwashed sheets and… no. Nigel closed his eyes, dropped his hand. Turned his body away. Adam made a soft noise at his back. 

"That's good, Nigel," he whispered. Nigel grunted in return, slammed his whiskey, poured another, and then turned back to sit heavily at his little table. Adam was stock still, his lips slightly parted. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Adam. I'm just… I'm fucked up, smashed and badly taped back together, and I have no fucking clue why you would want me to help you move to California. I have no fucking clue why you are here, after you figured out what I am, after having illegally hacked a government database to track me, after I specifically told you not to look for me. It's not wrong," he reassured. "I just don't understand it." He felt defeated, a pile of old bones laid before an angel. 

The angel sat down across the table from him, and placed both of his hands palm down on the table. "Nigel, I'm not certain I can explain. You aren't broken. You are powerful. People walk around you without pushing against you because they know it too, without you even having to tell them." His face was open and earnest, his eyes directed out the window. "You have not made me feel stupid, or inadequate. You haven't lied to me. You haven't blamed me for the misunderstanding about the fact that I thought you were interviewing to be a personal assistant and you thought you were interviewing me because I wanted you to kill someone for money. You didn't ask me for a picture of my dick."

Nigel snorted, a smile surprised out of him. "Was that on the table, darling?" At Adam's look of confusion, he clarified, "Were you offering pictures of your dick?"

Adam let out an explosive laugh, grinning wide, his cheeks flushing dark. "No, Nigel. I don't have any pictures of my dick."

"Shame." It flew from Nigel's lips before he could snare it. He looked down, cheeks flushing for an entirely different reason that Adam's. Old, bitter brute of a dog. He drank his whiskey and wondered how long it would be before he was sinking to his knees at the feet of this boy. Not long, he thought helplessly. He sighed, braced himself, and looked back at Adam , who met his eyes for the first time. It didn't last long, but Nigel felt it deep. Open, guileless desire colored Adam's face and neck, and he turned his face into his shoulder, wriggling a bit in his chair, clearly pleased. 

At that moment, Nigel knew he was going to fucking California.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally was going to be done with this in five chapters, but the response to it has just been so overwhelming to me ... Thank you for taking the time to kudo and comment! My soundtrack for this is [ here](https://open.spotify.com/user/zartbeseitet/playlist/7gwWiWEklBOQNSQhPHOZQN) if you happen to have access to Spotify. I guess I should also say that this contains spoilers for both movies. Mads is unbearably beautiful in Charlie Countryman, in case I can tempt you.

"So, why California, Adam? Let's put aside for the moment that I have no fucking clue why you think I am going to be able to do this job for you." Nigel leaned back in his chair, arching his shoulders heavily over the edge of the seat back in an attempt to stretch the misery out of his trapezius and lats. The throbbing against his temples swelled and then eased as he relaxed.

"Is that a… girl in her underwear?" Adam looked curious, not judgmental, as if he had never seen anything like it before. Nigel's hand darted up to his dancing girl, and he smiled. 

"Adam, this is not just a girl in her underwear. This is a cabaret girl, and a good memory." He rubbed his hand against the skin where she was imprinted. Adam's eyes followed his hand, and Nigel decided he liked Adam's eyes on him. "When I was in Bucharest, I was part of an… import export business." He might as well save some evil news for later, since there seemed there might actually be one. "I got this to celebrate the night my company became the only viable distributors of certain goods to a large market overseas." It had been a brutal negotiation, and he had nearly died, the first of many times. Adam stood out of his chair, and took a hesitant step towards him.

"May I touch the place on your neck where she is?" When Nigel didn't answer, having been immediately overcome by inexplicable shyness, Adam wavered. "Dad told me that it is important to ask people before you touch them, since not everyone likes to be touched. I appreciate when people ask me-"

"Yes." It was far, _far_ too late to make sound that even remotely casual, so Nigel went for sincere, instead. Adam smiled at him, reached out his hand, and trailed a finger down over the inked skin. Nigel had to look away, and in doing so bared his neck a little more. Adam took this as encouragement, and drew two fingers back up, his fingertips dragging over two days of stubble. Nigel snared his hand before it could drag under his ear.

"It feels the same as the skin that is not marked." Adam allowed his hand to be held, and Nigel drew it down before gently releasing it. Adam's hand hovered over his breastbone. Nigel cleared his throat. 

"Do you have, um…" Gods what the fuck. "…any tattoos, Adam?"

Adam's eyes widened comically. "No! Harlan told me that they hurt, and he knows because he had several done in prison."

Nigel grinned. "Prison tattoos hurt more because they aren't done with proper equipment, Adam. But a tattoo is more than just the pain of it. It's a memory, every time you look at it."

"But you can't see yours, Nigel, unless you are looking in a mirror or a photograph of that side of your neck. Did you not want to be reminded of it so often?" Adam's light eyes narrowed. "Or is its purpose to remind other people about what it commemorates?"

Nigel, lips parted in admiration, could only snag Adam's hand back. He pressed a kiss to the delicate skin over Adam's knuckles. "You are far too clever, darling, for the likes of me." Adam laughed, curling into himself again with delight, and pressed his hand back up against Nigel's lips. Nigel bit his knuckles without any real force, playful. His grin was only slightly feral. "Yes, it was intended as a reminder to any fucking sons of bitches that might forget our contract rights."

"Did it work?" 

Nigel kissed Adam's hand again, lingering, lost in the memory for a heartbeat or two. He breathed out his nose over the veins and tendons on the back of Adam's hand. "For a time." 

Adam was motionless for a moment, and then bowed over Nigel and kissed the top of his head. Nigel felt the press of heat, Adam's throat against his forehead, the clean soap and wool smell of him, and then Adam pulled back, turning to sit back down in his chair. Nigel sat stupidly for a moment, his hand still where it had been before Adam pulled his fingers away. "Is that why you're here and not in Bucharest, Nigel?"

The events of those dark months spun out before him-- Gabi's betrayal, his attempt to rebalance his world by killing Gabi's American lover, then Darko's betrayal, and his own narrow escape plunging into the killing waters of the Dâmbovița. Part of him died there at the sluice gate. Part of him was laid out on the concrete, the hot wash of his death staining the pavement like a blossom. What was left of him, sitting in this filthy kitchen in this foreign city, was caught in a feedback loop of astonishment and sensation. "You kissed me."

"You kissed me first," Adam reminded him.

Nigel could only stare, fighting the real urge to curl up into himself. No one was tender with him. No one dared. Nigel established the boundaries of every relationship, and people respected that. Gabi had respected that. Even fucking Charlie had respected that. This gentle tenderness was worse than a slap, and to his horror, Nigel was undone by it. He couldn't have made a sound if he had tried. Instead, he lifted his glass to his lips, only to discover it was empty. Adam got up from the chair again, retrieved the bottle from the counter behind him, and took the glass from Nigel's hand to refill it. "You should start drinking water after this, Nigel. Whiskey will dehydrate you, and it's really not good for you anyway. You don't take good care of yourself, Nigel."

Nigel drank, feeling the burn of it slide into his belly. He found words at last. "I've never had any reason to take care of myself, Adam. People like me don't live too long."

Adam frowned at that. He turned in an aimless circle, confusion on his brow, and then sat again, back perfectly straight and hands open on his thighs. "If you are coming with me to California, I will take care of you until you can do it on your own." He paused, a tinge of anxiety and hope in his open expression. "Are you coming with me to California?"

Nigel nodded. "I'm coming with you, Adam. To California, to anywhere you want to go. To the ends of the fucking earth." He closed his eyes. "Wherever you want to go, we'll go."

Adam lit up like a firework in the darkness. "Good. That's good, Nigel." He looked down at his hands, and then back up at Nigel through his lashes with a deliberateness that could not be mistaken. "The earth doesn't have an end, Nigel, since it is a sphere."

Nigel laughed, his spiraling tension released with a sudden snap. "Are you flirting with me, Adam?"

Adam grinned again, squirming in his seat, but didn't reply. 

***

Adam recognised that some truths were not spoken aloud. He understood, for instance, that Nigel had been a drug or weapons trafficker in Bucharest, possibly both. He understood also that something terrible had happened there, that drove Nigel here to New York, and that he was still involved in the same business. He also knew that Nigel had killed people before, and had been utterly indifferent about doing so again for money. Ten thousand dollars for a life seemed incredibly inadequate to Adam. He thought of the monetary value of his own life. He thought of how his previous employer hadn't thought him worth even the small paycheck he traded Adam for the careful hours of coding to produce something interesting. He thought of his failed relationship with Beth, so promising at first and then fading. He thought about his dream of starting over, of finding a place for himself where coders were paid enough to afford flats that cost ten thousand dollars a month. 

He looked for words to express all of this to Nigel, who was watching him from across the table. Adam had no idea what he was thinking, except that kisses were a good thing, and Adam's skin still tingled with the ghost of Nigel's lips and teeth. His own lips tingled with the feel of Nigel's hair, the smell of cigarettes and unwashed hair strong and good in his mouth. Nigel smelled like a wild thing, heady and powerful, and it made Adam's knees feel like they wouldn't support his weight, leading him to sink back into his chair. Beth had never made him feel like this. No one had ever made him feel like this. Nigel was still watching him.

"I want to explain to you why I think you are the right person to help me, because I don't think you think you are." Nigel nodded, so that must have sounded better to him than it did in Adam's mouth. Encouraged, he continued. "Your skill set is much more than you think it is, Nigel. To make a living as a paid assassin, you must know how to find people, and how to track them. You must be able to manoeuver them in to a place where you can…" Here he stumbled, because he couldn't pretend that it didn't affect him. Nigel's expression didn't change other than the tightening of his mouth. Displeasure, discomfort, anger, fear; Adam's mind supplied these words readily. He pressed on. "And then after, to leave without leading anyone back to you. Secrecy, manipulation, calm in a frightening situation." Nigel was no longer looking at him, but at his empty glass. Adam got up, took the glass, and rinsed and filled it with water from the tap. He gave it back to Nigel and then sat back down. He took a deep breath, knowing intellectually that he was plunging into even more dangerous territory, now that he was going to be speaking those unspoken truths. He chose one of the two, knowing even if he were wrong, it would be close enough to count. He didn't think about the third possibility at all. "To work successfully in a drug trafficking ring…"

Nigel's eyes fixed on his, dark and serious, and Adam held the gaze for a moment, until he looked instead at Nigel's brow. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and continued, "You would have to manage a large number of people, many of whom would not have your best interests at heart." At this, Nigel snorted, but didn't look away. Adam could feel his eyes on him like a spike pinning him to the back of the chair. "You would have had to negotiate in very tense situations. You would have had to maintain a power balance that favored you in order to maintain your control over a market." He stopped, words failing him as he felt Nigel grow larger in that little room. The physicality of the man in front of him was a palpable thing, a force that pressed at the air in Adam's lungs. He shifted, looking out the window. "And when everything collapsed, you would have to move very quickly to stay alive." 

Very quietly, Nigel spoke into the airless kitchen. "What makes you think everything collapsed?"

Adam shrugged, smiling easily. "Why would you leave a successful business to come to a foreign country and make a living looking for jobs on Craigslist?" 

Nigel stared at him for a heartbeat, and then another. Adam stayed very still, looking calmly out the window. Nigel would make up his own mind, and Adam had weighed his choices and decided on coming out with everything he knew all at once, before they entered into an official relationship (or any other kind, for which Adam was optimistically hopeful, what with the kissing and all.) An abrupt breath, and then, "It wasn't sex trafficking."

Adam nodded without looking. "I never thought it was. If I had thought that, I wouldn't be here." He turned his head very slightly, wanting to look at Nigel but unsure about whether he had finished thinking about Adam's assertions.

Nigel exhaled, drawing Adam's gaze, and then smiled broadly, his head shaking back and forth. "Adam. With my 'skillset' and your gorgeous brain, we could rule the fucking world."

Adam felt his heart physically swell until it filled his chest cavity. His heart felt so big that his lungs could barely take in air. He felt dizzy, but happy. He gasped a laugh, and then held out his hand for Nigel to catch, which he did. His callused fingers rubbed over Adam's knuckles. "Nigel, can we get to California first?"

Nigel drank his water down, but didn't let go of Adam's hand. "Of course, darling."

"Nigel, actually, could you take me home now? I always eat at noon. If we leave now we will be on time."

"Adam, fucking yes, I will take you home now."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Nigel's](http://36.media.tumblr.com/7c70b59e6c00ce17a2f1c4f57a4869e3/tumblr_mnt9mq11Kn1qbj180o4_500.jpg) [scar.](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/1d/b0/fa/1db0fa6a1d0ad126d5cee68b3afdf403.jpg)

The second time Adam flew across Manhattan, he was squeezed between Nigel's strong back and a duffle bag that held a change of clothes. Adam had offered Nigel the use of his own bathroom to shower in, and it had taken absolutely no pressure at all for Nigel to agree. Adam was glad. Nigel's bathroom looked like a losing battle, clean but so old and fractured that dark cracks and splits in the floor and walls harbored mildew and who knew what else. Nigel still hadn't had time to get a second helmet, so Adam wore the one he had with minimal protest, although he did feel the need to remind Nigel of his promise. Nigel readily agreed to this as well, but even so, as they roared through the relatively light midday traffic, Adam placed one hand on the back of Nigel's head, fingers spread wide over the fragile occipital and parietal shell of bone. He kept his hand there until Nigel jostled him slightly, possibly on purpose, and his hand dropped back down to clasp with the other around Nigel's waist. 

Adam loved being tucked here, between the duffel and Nigel's body. It gave him a deeply satisfying feeling of safety and comfort, what Dr. Temple Grandin called deep touch pressure comfort. He allowed himself to drift, imagining being between Nigel's body and another large, flat surface. The wall, or the floor. His bed. Nigel soothed him in a way he had not expected. He found himself wondering if Nigel would stay with him. It wasn't a fair thought, but there it was. Adam would never ask, but maybe one day Nigel would offer. That thought was enough to make him squirm with pleasure, his body outing his thoughts. Nigel picked that moment to pull to a stop at a light, and glanced back at him, his cheeks ruddy and eyes dark. "Adam, darling, you might want to stop that. It's very distracting." 

Adam blushed. "I'm sorry, Nigel. I forget," he offered in explanation. But in truth it was very difficult to forget how tightly they were pressed together. It felt too good to forget. Nigel grinned at him.

"Don't be sorry, Adam. Just… save it for later, maybe? When the roads aren't so crowded." Nigel winked at him. Secrecy, flirtation, invitation, inclusion. Adam nodded, smiled back at him, and let himself relax into Nigel's warm body, memorizing the way his back muscles flexed and bunched as Nigel angled the Triumph through the streets of Manhattan.

Too soon they were back at Adam's apartment. This time Adam had the presence of mind to guide Nigel around the back to the subterranean parking lot. Adam's father's car, a 2005 Toyota Camry, sat dusty and neglected in its parking space. Nigel parked the Triumph right behind it, perpendicular, and then settled the heavy bike down on its stand. He reached a hand to help Adam off the back and then swung his long leg over the tail as well, tugging the duffel from Adam's hand. He put it down on the concrete floor and then turned to Adam and lifted the helmet off his head. Adam beamed at him. "Thank you for bringing me home, Nigel."

"My pleasure, darling." Adam took his hand again and led him to the steel door, opening it with his apartment key. They walked up the stairs in silence, Adam's head full of the roaring of the motorcycle. By the time they reached his door, it had faded only slightly. Inside, Adam indicated the direction of the bathroom, mind already switching over to the ritual of heating up his macaroni for lunch. Unbidden, he began to prepare two containers.

***

Nigel reached the bathroom and closed the door, and then allowed himself to fall heavily against it. This was going to kill him. Adam was going to fucking kill him. A hot spark of memory brought the echo of Adam's hips wriggling against his ass, and for the second time in as many days he remained unthreatened by it. Maybe some guys would be, assholes like him who always topped no matter what. If he were honest with himself, he was still that asshole. But the feel of Adam's thighs squeezing his hips had sent an unmistakable bolt of hot want right through his gut. What that said about him he was unwilling to entertain at the moment, and he forced himself to breathe deeply. He was not going to jerk off in Adam's shower. Adam wasn't some fleeting masturbatory fantasy. If Nigel was going to be getting himself off to thoughts of Adam, it would be because Adam was a willing participant, either by watching or by helping. His cock twitched in his pants and Nigel clamped down on that thought with both hands. Like Adam's hips, the thought of Adam helping wriggled in his mind, and he lurched over to turn the shower on cold. 

By the time he finished up, brushing his teeth and running a hand through his hair to tug it straight, Adam was calling his name. Judging by his voice, he was right outside the door. "Nigel, I made lunch for us." A pause. "It's macaroni and cheese." Nigel finished buttoning his jeans, stuffed his dirty clothes in a corner of the duffel and took his shirt in his hand, stepping outside the small neat bathroom so he could have more room to tug it on. He walked out into the hallway and smiled at Adam, who was back at the table with two bowls of macaroni and cheese and two tall glasses of white milk. Adam met his smile with another, flaring bright with happiness. His large blue eyes roamed openly over Nigel's bare chest, and then his smile fell. He stood abruptly, staring at Nigel's flank. Too late, Nigel remembered. He dropped his eyes and made to tug his shirt over his head, but Adam was already in front of him, saying, breathlessly, "Nigel. May I." Then came the impossibly gentle touch; though Nigel had not given Adam permission to touch him, he found his protest dying in his mouth. Adam's fingertips rubbed over the puckers and slubs of the ropy, badly healed scar, and Nigel closed his eyes and allowed himself to be touched.

Then, "Is this why you had to leave?"

Nigel thought through the chain of events that had led to the night at the sluice gate. He took a deep breath in, and then nudged Adam away so that he could pull his shirt on. "Come, Adam, you need to eat. It's past noon."

"But…" Then Adam nodded, logic perhaps overriding curiosity for the moment, and turned back to the table, sitting down and lifting his spoon. He ate without comment, not even looking up to see if Nigel would join him. He did anyway, and managed a few spoonfuls of macaroni. 

"It was the beginning, Adam, but not the way you think. " The memory of the golden light of his room, blood staining the sheets, the dank stale sweat of his fever as he waited out the infection in delirious bewilderment. The song of a single cello threading through the window, day after day. Gabi. What came after was a blur, and sometimes he thought he had never risen from that fevered bed at all. "Is it alright if we don't talk about it?" His voice was gruff, but gentle. Adam nodded, not looking up. Nigel sighed, and then looked at his watch. Time pressed down on him. "I am going to leave you now, Adam, because I have business to attend to this afternoon." A job, a simple negotiation, if he could trust Darko's American contacts to have accurately outlined the situation. "Would you like me to come back tonight, so that we can begin getting you to California?" He knew he was being abrupt, but the ache of so little sleep coupled with too much whiskey and maybe too fucking many personal revelations made him feel less than human. He hoped Adam would understand. Adam raised his eyes to meet Nigel's.

"Do you want to come back?" Adam looked sad, and maybe resigned. He was completely open-- how would he begin to hide facial expressions when he didn't comprehend them? Nigel hated that he looked like that. He loathed himself for being the cause of it. He reached across the table and took Adam's hand.

"I absolutely fucking do, Adam. I would rather be here than anywhere. Trust me that I am fucking telling you the absolute fucking truth."

That gentle smile again, eyes fluttering. It wasn't a sunbeam, but it was a thousand times better than sadness. "I eat supper at eight, Nigel. I go to bed at eleven. Do you think you can be here before eleven?"

"I don't know, darling. I'll try." Adam jumped up from the table and walked quickly over to the outside kitchen drawer closest to the door. He took something out and then walked back over to Nigel, holding out his hand. Nigel opened his palm, and Adam pressed a key into his hand.

***

For a long time after Nigel had gone, the memory of his beautiful smile as he realized Adam had given him the spare key seared across the backs of Adam's eyelids, Adam didn't think about how stupid Harlan would tell him he had been for doing it. Adam sat down at his laptop and looked up realtors in New York city and ignored imaginary Harlan's incensed yelling until it faded to an unrecognisable din. He ignored Harlan's voice in his head as he studied different cities in California and their prospects for someone like him. He spent a few moments wondering if Nigel would enjoy a place like San Diego more than a place like San Francisco. As Harlan's voice swelled back up into the bellowing range, Adam calmly narrowed his choices, looking up neighborhoods that he could reasonably afford before getting a job, on the money they would be getting from the sale of the apartment. He ruminated that his landlord might want to buy this apartment herself, but wouldn't give Adam what it was worth. That was where Nigel came in. He would handle the negotiations that paralyzed Adam.

The time for supper came and Adam fixed himself more macaroni. He didn't fix any for Nigel, since he might not get back before it got cold. No one liked cold macaroni. He spent the evening watching the Discovery channel. Slowly his thoughts settled. He thought of the brutal scar that ran like a ladder up Nigel's ribs, how it had felt hot under his fingers as if it hadn't healed. Nigel hadn't wanted to talk about it. Adam didn't know what kind of story Nigel would eventually tell him, but he was content to wait. He washed the dishes and put them away, turned off the television and put his laptop to sleep. He showered where Nigel had showered earlier. He put on his favorite pajamas, the ones that had planets and constellations on them, the depictions wildly inaccurate but colorful. He watched out the window with his hand on his telescope until he decided the sky was too occluded to stargaze. He climbed into bed. 

He closed his eyes.

He opened his eyes. 

It was the key in the lock that woke him. He was curled up in his covers, so he must have slept. He peered at the clock, which read 3:42. A loud thump startled him, and he lifted himself out of bed. "Nigel?"

"Adam," came the reply, but not Nigel's normally robust, gravelly voice. Adam put his feet into his puppy slippers and walked to the door to turn on the bedroom light. Soft light illuminated the hall, but dimly. A dark shadow was slumped on the floor next to the bathroom. Adam walked carefully over and knelt down.

"Nigel, what's wrong?" Nigel lifted his chin to look at Adam and show his teeth in a configuration that did not give Adam the feeling of happiness. His face was pale and sweaty, and his cheek was cut. Adam tried to lift him up, the beginnings of anxiety stirring in his belly. Nigel grunted. 

"No darling, don't do that. I'm alright. I got myself stabbed for my trouble, but I'm alright. Just tired" Adam squeezed his shoulder in alarm, but Nigel leaned over and kissed his hand. "Just help me get into the bathroom. I need to clean it and maybe stitch it up, but it's nothing to worry about." Adam nodded. Nigel wouldn't lie to him. Nigel was fine if he said he was fine. Nigel was fine if he said so, even if there were stripes of blood staining the wall where Nigel had slid downward. Nigel didn't lie to him.

"What can I do?" His voice sounded very calm to himself, if obviously worried. In reply, Nigel put a broad hand on Adam's shoulder, and Adam wrapped his arms under Nigel's arms and lifted as hard as he could. His back strained with the pull. Nigel was a dead weight until he could get up on his knees, and then he lifted himself the rest of the way, staggering slightly. For a moment he leaned back against the hallway wall, just breathing, and Adam saw the dark bloodspill down his white tank, a brown-red stain under his arm and across the front of his breast. 

Nigel touched Adam's face to get his attention. "It's not as bad as it looks, darling, trust me." He moved carefully past the door into the bathroom, finding the light switch and leaving a smear of blood on the switchplate. They both winced when the light came on. Nigel sighed. He began tugging at the hem of his shirt, and Adam reached to help him. They lifted it over Nigel's good side and slid it off the bad one. The coppery sting of blood filled Adam's nose, and he gagged. Nigel caught him by the wrist as he turned away. "Go, Adam. Go to bed. You don't need to be here." Adam nodded, turned his back, and walked out. He walked down the hall to the kitchen, took a deep breath of air that didn't smell like blood, and then reached for the drawer of hand towels. When he walked back into the bathroom, Nigel was still right where he had been, swaying gently. Adam set the towels on the small sink and turned on the hot water. Nigel studied him in the mirror, but Adam must have somehow conveyed his determination, because Nigel nodded, and then sank down to sit on the toilet seat. 

***

The boy kneeled with a warm wet towel and carefully began to wash the skin around the knife wound. It wasn't bad; Nigel hadn't lied to him. It had mostly stopped bleeding-- just a sluggish seep of red now. Nigel wondered hazily how many different ways this might have gone. The job itself should have been fine-- easy even, and it would have been if people weren't fucking idiots. One of the kids had gotten in a lucky shot, springing it before negotiations had been finished, and he had paid with a sprung hamstring and a sizable concussion. No one had died, at least not that Nigel knew of, and maybe this particular line of inquiry could be reopened. He had called to let fucking Ritter, his American contact, know how it had gone in no uncertain detail, and how he felt about working with puppies who jumped at shadows. He was going to let fucking Ritter salvage what she fucking might, but he wouldn't be wading back in to this particular clusterfuck. Going soft, Darko would scorn him. The truth was, he was tired, and no longer young. Once he had believed in going out in a blaze of glory. Now he looked at Adam's pale face, screwed up with concern and anxiety, and wondered what it would be like to live.

"Do you have any rubbing alcohol, Adam? And I need you to get my kit out of my duffel." Adam nodded, still silent, and stood to reach into the cabinet above the sink for the alcohol. He set it down on the sink, and then left the room to bring Nigel's duffel. When he returned, Nigel could tell he was on the verge of tears. "Hey, darling, Adam. Come here," he beckoned. Adam came easily, and Nigel forced himself up on quivering legs. He reached for Adam, drew him in, and kissed him on the forehead. "You don't want me here, you just tell me, baby, and I'll go." It was the last thing he wanted, seeing as how his walk-up might as well be on the moon and getting there tonight equally possible, but for Adam he felt there were few things he wouldn't try to do. Adam was shaking his head, though, rocking it slowly back and forth.

"No, Nigel. I promised myself I wouldn't ask you to stay, because it's selfish to want you here all the time, and strange because Harlan would tell me I don't know you, and he would say you are a dangerous man, but I am asking you, Nigel. I'm asking you to stay. I want you to be safe, so that we can go to California, and I've been looking at neighborhoods where we could afford an apartment with two bedrooms, because I'm not asking you for anything except to help me, like I asked you, and to be safe. Please." He lifted his eyes to Nigel's, and he looked scared, but not of Nigel. Scared _for_ him. Nigel wouldn’t have recognised that look unless he had seen it directed between others, during negotiations and darker nights. Never at him. Not until now. In a flush of wonder, he kissed Adam on the forehead again, and again, and then on his cheek, over the bolt of his jaw, against his ear. When he drew back, Adam was smiling again, shyly, and Nigel couldn’t help but mirror him. 

"Will you let me stay tonight, Adam? You don't have to make up your mind about anything else, but I would like to stay tonight."

Adam nodded, smiled, and then leaned in and dropped a trembling, featherlight kiss on Nigel's cheek. "Yes." Nigel bowed his head. 

It took another half an hour to clean and stitch the wound, mostly because Nigel was teaching Adam. It was a glancing blow, having cut longer than deeper. The pectoral muscle was nicked but not compromised. It would hurt for a week or two, and he would have to be careful not to tear it. Once Adam got the hang of pushing the needle through Nigel's skin, which was the hardest part for almost anyone, he had a very light touch. Not too loose, not too tight, and tied off securely. It wasn't the neatest job Nigel had ever had done, but honestly he wanted it to scar, just for the memory of Adam's hands on him. As the sky was beginning to lighten, Nigel nudged Adam toward his bedroom, and followed after him in the hopes that Adam was too tired to protest. They fell down together, Nigel landing on his uninjured side, and Adam snuggled against him. In moments they were dead to the world.


	7. Chapter 7

Adam woke up at the same time as he woke every day. It didn't seem to matter that he had gone to sleep only two hours before. A puff of breath warmed his forehead, and for a moment he debated adapting his schedule to accommodate this new series of developments. Nigel shifted against him, and Adam curled up, pressing his shins against Nigel's bare thighs, sinking into the depression the heavier man made in his bed.

In his bed. Adam grinned in delight. Nigel was in his bed. Injured, yes, and he needed a shower and a new shirt, but he was here and he was safe. Adam peered at the stitches in the low light-- they weren't puckered or gaping. No new blood stained his skin. Adam trailed a finger through the wiry curls of chest hair near the knife wound. He would have to study muscle diagrams to determine whether he had done everything he could for the injury.

That thought was enough to move him, and he pulled away from Nigel only to realize that Nigel's arms were completely around him, clasped at his back. Nigel didn't stir, and Adam didn't want him to, but now he was trapped and anxiety began to quiver in his belly. It was now 7:03. Breakfast was at 7:15, and he still had to brush his teeth. So much of his schedule had been disrupted lately, even for good things, that he felt unmoored. He wriggled gently against Nigel's embrace, which caused Nigel to tighten his arms. Adam needed a strategy.

He studied the configuration of his and Nigel's bodies. If he couldn't roll away, he would have to either slide his body up through Nigel's arms or down. The headboard blocked the upward path, so he began to wriggle downwards. He clasped his arms around his chest and straightened his legs, and inchwormed down Nigel's body. His face was pressed against the warm rippled muscle of Nigel's abdomen, and then the inward cut of his hip. Adam flushed in embarrassment when his face nudged up against Nigel's thigh, and tried not to visualize where his mouth was in relation to Nigel's penis. Which was impossible, so he ignored it instead. Which was impossible as well, so he shimmied those last few inches quickly and then rolled away and off the bed. His lungs expanded in relief, and he risked a look back to see Nigel, eyes definitely open, grinning cheekily at him.

"That was very enjoyable, Adam. But you could have asked me to let you go."

Adam was fifteen shades of bright red. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I didn't want to wake you, Nigel. You need to sleep."

Nigel chuckled at him. "I'm going to sleep, darling. Wake me when you want me to go."

Adam stared at him as he closed his eyes, murmured, "I don't want you to go." Nigel replied with a humming sound, and then was still.

After a quick brush and rinse, Adam poured himself cereal and settled at the table. First order of business was Nigel's injury. Adam pored over websites and diagrams as he crunched through his cereal, and soon his Google search was full of all sorts of questionable search parameters, such as 'knife wound muscle' and 'when to stitch a knife wound' and 'depth of serratus anterior muscle.' He learned that the knife had sliced along the muscle that covered Nigel's ribs, and that his ability to hang from a bar and do pushups would be seriously affected. He would not be able to lift or carry safely until it healed. Adam decided the best way to ensure that Nigel allowed it to heal would be to keep an eye on him. He hoped that Nigel would be amenable to staying with him. Not necessarily in Adam's bed, just in case he preferred his own space, but that was certainly an option. 

Once he was satisfied, he turned his mind towards finding a realtor. 

***

Nigel ached everywhere. The knife wound was a deep jagged hurt that subsided to a throb when he was still and surged to a roar when he shifted. He needed to piss. He needed a shower, but first he had to tape plastic over the stitches. Years ago, something like this wouldn't have phased him. Now the smaller wound carried all the psychic damage of the larger one, and since it was on the same side, it even carried a little of the physical damage as well. He sighed, shallowly, and used his good arm to push himself out of bed. Trudging across the hall was an accomplishment, and taking a piss even more of one. He was hungry.

"Good morning, Nigel." Adam was in the hallway, openly watching Nigel tuck his dick back in his boxers. "Um, sorry." Nigel reached out for him before Adam could duck and snagged the back of his head, pulled him in for a kiss on the forehead. Adam squirmed away. "Nigel! You didn't wash your hand!" He looked horrified, and Nigel grinned toothily at him.

"I'll wash your hair if you shower with me." His voice was playful rather than hopeful, since he was honestly too tired and too hurt for shower shenanigans. Adam grinned and blushed, turning away. Nigel enjoyed making him blush, and he seemed very good at it, too.

"I shower at night, Nigel. Do you… need help?" Definitely hopeful. Desire flared in Nigel's belly, and he gently tamped it down. 

"You are a beautiful temptation, Adam. You make me fucking crazy. And when I am healed up, I promise you that we will be spending time in the shower together, if that's something you want." He paused, reading the delight on Adam's face with wonder. Nigel had never been so cautious, not with anyone. He had always been the pursuer, and this desire to have Adam come to his hand willingly was new and strange. Adam grinned, ducked back out into the kitchen, and came back with a roll of waterproof tape and a plastic baggie. 

"I've been reading up on your injury, Nigel. I am going to cover the stitches with plastic so that you can shower without increasing the risk of infection." He worked as he spoke, fitting the plastic over the wound and neatly trimming pieces of tape. He had carefully shaved around the cut the night before with a new razor, and now he taped gingerly over the muscle, pressing the edges down and rubbing his thumb over them. "The knife cut into your serratus anterior muscle. Since you are strong and the muscle is thick, it didn't penetrate to the bone. It bled a lot because it was a long cut, but it wasn't deep. You will not be able to lift or hang by your arms until it heals. You won't be able to do pushups or planks."

Nigel smiled, amused. "Do I have to cancel my gym membership, darling?"

Adam paused. "You have a gym membership, Nigel?"

Nigel choked out a laugh, and it hurt. "That was sarcasm, Adam."

"Oh. I don't recognise sarcasm, Nigel," he said, matter of fact. "The social cues that indicate it are too complex." He continued to fix the tape until he was satisfied. Then, with a glance up at Nigel's face, he bowed his head and laid a soft kiss right over the wound. "You can shower now."

Nigel nodded, finding words evasive. Adam turned and left him, and for a moment, Nigel was lost in thought, staring at the place he had been. His thoughts seemed to separate into silvery filaments, like a school of minnows flashing in the sunlit water, impossible to grasp. The care that Adam gave him was unfamiliar, unreal. He desired it and wanted to push it away simultaneously. He wanted to protect Adam and rebuff him. He should never have this, and he wanted it with a desperation that unnerved him. His thoughts continued to confuse him, and even a hot much-needed shower couldn't make them subside completely.

After the shower and after Nigel had made a meal of cereal while insisting that dinner would be something more substantial, they settled down to discuss California. Adam was dressed in a red sweater and khakis, and Nigel had on his own spare jeans and one of Adam's father's button-downs, which had been much easier to get on than a t-shirt or tank. Adam had helped him button it, and had craftily left the top two buttons undone, which pleased Nigel immensely. As they sat side-by-side on the loveseat, Adam handed Nigel a printed list of realtors with the explanation that he owned the apartment. "My father once owned the entire building, but he sold all but this unit. The landlord has offered to buy it many times, but I don't like talking with her. She wouldn't give me what it's worth."

Nigel nodded. "What's it worth?"

"My dad inherited the building from his parents. When he sold it 20 years ago it went for 20 million." Nigel raised eyebrows at him. impressed. New York real estate was ridiculous. Even his little shithole walkup was $800 a month, but Adam's home was in a good neighborhood, and it was huge by New York standards. Adam jumped ahead of his calculations. "This unit should sell for between two and three million, which will give us some breathing room while we decide where to go." There it was, casually inserted in their conversation. Where _they_ would go. He decided not to call attention to it while he rolled the thought around in his head. Going across the country with Adam… Adam who he to be honest barely knew, and who had invited Nigel to come with him to California not as a lover, but to keep him safe. Not _necessarily_ as a lover, although he had a good idea that both of them were more than a little interested. And if it didn't work out, Nigel would be in California, which was just as good as any other place that wasn't Bucharest. He found himself liking the idea of it, although it felt like a dream. 

"So you want me to negotiate the sale of this apartment, Adam, and then what? Do you know where you want to go?"

Adam was quiet for a moment. Then, "I wanted to ask you if you would like San Francisco or San Diego better." 

Nigel frowned and looked at Adam sideways. "Adam, this is about you, and what you want. You are hiring me to get you there."

Adam's expression turned stubborn, his eyes narrowing. "I want you to come with me, so it's important that you like it too."

Nigel's frown deepened. He was torn by his own conflicting desires. "I want to go with you, darling. But what if you change your mind? If you moved to a city because I chose it, and then you decided you wanted nothing more to do with a fuck-up like me, what then? Would you stay somewhere you fucking hate?"

Adam stared at him a moment, his excitement dimming to nothing, and then his body began to rock back and forth. He turned his eyes to the floor, his arms curling against his chest. Abruptly, he stood and walked to his room and closed the door. Nigel heard a thump, and another, and then nothing more. 

Fuck. Smoothly done, _nenorocitule_. He debated going after Adam, but decided against it. Maybe they both needed some space to think. Instead, he sighed heavily, picked up the phone, and began making calls.

***

"No, I don't actually give a fuck that you think you're busy. This is a fucking upper west side apartment, and my client recommends you." A pause, then, "Although I don't fucking know why-- hello. Did you just hang up, you sniveling cocksucker!"

Adam listened from his darkened bedroom. Nigel had been making calls for an hour, narrowing down the pool of realtors with a menacingly disrespectful flair that Adam couldn't help but admire, partially because he could never hope to duplicate it. He had been pressed under his weighted blanket, his tremors slowly subsiding until he felt both warm and anchored. The sound of Nigel berating uncooperative realtors in the next room was both satisfying and deeply comforting. As his mind calmed and settled, he allowed himself to go back to their conversation. Nigel had not told Adam that he didn't want to go-- in fact, seemed perfectly willing to. He had plainly stated that the decision was Adam's. More telling than that, Nigel expected Adam to leave him. As powerful and in control as Nigel seemed, he was not. Adam had wanted to hire Nigel to forward his own agency in the world, but this had precluded Nigel's own agency, leaving him essentially at Adam's mercy. And now Adam wanted to keep Nigel with him, not just to watch over him, but with an unfamiliar possessiveness. He sighed, unhappy. People were complicated. Normally that wasn't a problem for him, since he had little interest in relationships besides those that had been established for years. But Nigel. 

The resolution was obvious. Nigel wanted to keep their professional and personal relationships separated. This was a sensible decision. Nigel dealt with messy situations all the time, and had clearly learned how to keep the right balance, as much as possible. Adam needed to return Nigel's agency. He needed to allow Nigel his freedom, and then hope that he would decide that a relationship with Adam was worth pursuing. The thought of letting Nigel go was a miserable one, but also what Harlan would call 'right-minded.' Suddenly he missed Harlan, and his excellent advice, and his steady demeanor. Perhaps he would call, and Harlan would come and visit. But Adam felt like this was his to solve. He knew what he had to do-- he just didn't want to. It took him several minutes to gather the courage to get out of bed. 

Adam crept out the door and into the bright afternoon light that flooded through his large windows. He cleared his throat, and Nigel turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. Expectation, inclusion, attraction, encouragement. Adam fumbled for his voice. "I would like to hire you officially. I will contract you to sell this place, to move my belongings into storage in the city I move to, and to assist me in finding a permanent place to live and a job. For that work I will offer you a 10th of the sale of this apartment as payment. Once your job is done, you are free from any other obligation with me." He paused, finding it more difficult than normal to breathe. "Is that acceptable?"

Nigel swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing against the thin skin of his throat. "Does this… do you want me to stay with you until it's done?"

Adam nodded. "I am offering you my father's old room if you would like to stay here, but you don't have to accept." 

"Not your bed?" Nigel wasn't smiling, which didn't necessarily mean anything.

"I'm trying not to obligate you while I'm paying you, Nigel. It's not fair to you. You want to keep our professional relationship separate from our personal relationship, and you are right. I never thought I would… I never thought that when I was hiring a personal assistant that I would end up…" he floundered. "End up liking you so much. Want to…" _keep you, stay with you, have sex with you, kiss you for hours_ "pursue a relationship with you. Now it's complicated, and I am trying to uncomplicate it."

A beat of silence. "And after?"

Adam met his gaze for a heartbeat. Nigel's eyes were dark and unreadable. "We can talk about it then."

Nigel was silent. Then he nodded. "I accept, but I have two conditions."

"What are they?"

"If I ask, and it's acceptable to you, I would like to be able to sleep in your bed." 

Yes, Adam wanted that too. He had to know, though. "Why?"

"Because I like sleeping next to you. Because I like the feel of your body pressed up against me, Adam. Do I need more reason than that?" A slight smile now, encouragement perhaps, or possibly confusion. 

"And the second?"

"If you want something, Adam, you need to ask me. That's the second condition. Don’t assume that you know what I want or what is best for me. Ask."

Adam turned these both over in his head. He thought perhaps that Nigel was gently trying to tell him that Adam had overstepped. Regardless, these were both agreeable. The thought of having Nigel in his bed was _very_ agreeable. "Yes, Nigel. I agree to both of those conditions."

Nigel blew out an explosive breath. "Fucking Adam, and I thought last night's negotiations were fucking difficult!" Adam returned a shaky grin, and Nigel's chest expanded with a few shallow breaths. "Alright, now that that's taken care of. I've succeeded in weeding out the weak and unfit." He handed back the list to Adam with a toothy grin. There were three names left, out of over twenty. "I am accepting your offer of a room, mostly because it will be very satisfying to break lease on that filthy rat hole I'm squatting in now. I am going to go back and pack a bag and tell my landlord to go fuck himself. I'm going to pick up dinner, which you can eat or not. And then I am going to come back here. Acceptable?"

"Yes, Nigel." 

"Should we shake on it?" Nigel offered his uninjured hand to shake. Adam took it, and Nigel reeled him in to press a lingering kiss to his head. "You worry too much about me, Adam," he murmured. "It's good of you to make your intentions clear. I hope mine are too." Adam nodded against him, feeling grounded and relieved all at once. 

***

Nigel returned late in the afternoon with takeout Vietnamese. His possessions were in a worn backpack, consisting of his little Colt .380 Mustang Pocketlite, several clips, two pairs of jeans and three shirts, his passport and all the expedited paperwork that came with it, green card (also expedited, but it would stand up to moderate scrutiny), his small collection of burner phones, and all the cash he had. Ritter still hadn't paid him for the clusterfuck of a job last night, but she had assured him there was no need to worry. He had assured her that he wasn't the one that should be fucking worrying. So he had about $2000 in cash, another L1000, which converted to about $250 American. Anything else he could pick up on the fly. He parked the Triumph behind the Camry and took the stairs two at a time. He knocked, but already had his key in the lock, because he could.

He swung open the door in a rare cheer, which promptly deflated into caution. There was a man at the table with Adam. Heavyset, old, and angry-looking. Adam jumped up and took the takeout with a bright smile. "Nigel! This is my friend Harlan!" Harlan stood with his eyes narrowed. Nigel nodded at him. "Hello, Harlan."

"Hello, Nigel. Adam's been telling me all about you."

"All good, I hope?" 

"Not really." 

Adam glanced awkwardly between them, and then set the bag of food on the counter. "Harlan, will you stay for dinner with us? Nigel, should I make macaroni as well? Harlan came to visit me because I hadn't called in several days and he was worried. I told him he has no reason to be worried."

"Yes, indeed." Harlan gave a toothy smile. "Here I find the son of my dear friend, who is also dear to me, as dear as my own son would be…" Nigel nodded, his polite veneer firmly in place, although it was a struggle not to sneer. Harlan took a breath, then continued. "My dear Adam here tells me that he hired you to help him move to California. That you are staying here. In this apartment. With my Adam. And going to California with him, even! How accommodating." If Adam wasn't able to recognise sarcasm, this might be a passable conversation. Harlan obviously knew Adam well, and was using that knowledge to have a hidden conversation with Nigel in plain view. Nigel felt that was rude, but he wasn't going to allow this old man to bait him. 

Before he could gather the words to retaliate, Adam replied. "Harlan, I know you are upset. It's obvious even to _me_. But I trust Nigel. And like you told me just now, I'm grown and I need to spread my wings."

Harlan dropped the act immediately. "I don't like this, Adam. You found him on Craigslist, for God's sake." Nigel felt there was very little he could say here, since Harlan obviously didn't know why Nigel had initially replied. Better for everyone that way. But the thought that Adam trusted him enough to stand up to his mentor… he stood a little taller. It pulled on his injury, and he ignored it. 

Adam frowned at Harlan while he lifted out styrofoam boxes of vermicelli barbeque pork from a little place down the road from Nigel's now former residence. Nigel decided to go in subtle. "Are you angry because you think I'm fucking him, or are you angry because that might be what he wants?"

Harlan gaped at him, and then lifted a finger in a pre-emptive wagging motion. "Now look here!"

"STOP IT!" Adam's hands were over his ears, and Nigel immediately stepped back, ducking his head. He stood in front of Adam without speaking, without moving, just watching until Adam slowly dropped his hands. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Harlan was equally motionless. Good. At least they agreed on something. Adam took several deep breaths, and then flattened his hands on the table. "Nigel, that was rude." Nigel curled his lip at Adam, and narrowed his eyes at Harlan, before muttering an apology. Adam turned to Harlan. "Harlan, I can fuck who I want. Right now I am not fucking Nigel but we might decide that's what we want at some point in the future, and you are my friend and I am asking you to respect my choices." Harlan frowned at him, and then sighed. Nigel just attempted to scrape his chin off the floor at the sound of 'fuck' in Adam's mouth. It was a good sound, he decided.

"Adam, I just. I want to keep you safe." Suddenly Harlan looked old, and tired, and hurt, and Nigel felt a grudging stab of pity for him. A very small stab, but still. It moved him to speak with more calm than he necessarily felt.

"Harlan, I respect Adam. I'm not going to take advantage of him. You should trust him. He's well able to care for himself."

For a moment, their tableau trembled on the edge of another argument, and then Harlan flung himself into a chair and snagged one of the boxes. "Adam, do you have plates or is it just a free-for-all tonight?" Adam grinned and turned to get plates. Nigel settled on the other side of Harlan, keeping Adam in-between them. 

And after Adam set down plates and cups of milk for all of them, he settled with his knee pressing against Nigel's thigh. A small smile danced across his lips. It felt hard-won and worth it. And much later, after they had eaten and Adam had told Harlan about the motorcycle rides, after Harlan had grudgingly given his goodbyes after realizing he was going to have to leave Adam in Nigel's hands, after Adam had showered and dressed for bed, Nigel stood in Adam's doorway and asked if he could stay. Adam lifted the covers with that same small smile gracing his mouth and eyes, and Nigel slid carefully in beside him and wrapped both arms around him, realizing he would willingly fight a thousand more battles if he could have this, just this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nenorocitule-- ne-no-ro- **chi** -tu-le. motherfucker.


	8. Chapter 8

This was new, and to Adam's mind, new was normally difficult. New had always been unwelcome, difficult to adjust to, and complicated his life unnecessarily. He was a person with simple needs, and although he had lately been able to allow deviations to his schedule, that didn't mean he wouldn't settle back into it as soon as he could. 

Now, gazing at Nigel's body in his bed, the man asleep beside him and breathing deeply, a slight roughness to his throat from his smoking habit, Adam realized that he had integrated 'Sleeping in bed with Nigel' into his schedule with very little disruption. Sometimes they lay next to each other, and other nights they were wrapped around each other, but Adam knew he would miss him if Nigel wasn't there. It had been a week now since Nigel had been stabbed. He had gone to collect from his boss two days before, explaining that he wasn't going to be available anymore, but that she could get in touch with Darko if she needed him further. They parted amicably, Nigel had told him, and Nigel had brought back a couple thousand in what he called 'finishing fees', which was tucked in his duffel. Adam had been a bundle of nerves the entire time he was gone, and they had spent the rest of the night swaddled in each other's arms. Now that Nigel was healing nicely, Adam didn't have a specific reason to keep Nigel in his bed anymore, and he found it deeply satisfying that Nigel chose to stay anyway. He dragged his fingers through the wiry silvering curls on Nigel's chest, and then tucked in his chin to peered down his loose t-shirt collar at his own chest, a fluffy trail of sparse dark hair low on his belly but nowhere else. 

They had an appointment with the only realtor that had passed all of Nigel's tests this morning. Her name was Beverly Katz, and Adam liked her very much. He had even spoken with her on the phone, briefly, because she demanded to speak to Nigel's client before she would physically show up at the apartment.

"So you're Adam Raki?"

"Yes, Ms. Katz."

"Please call me Bev. Seriously, I'm gonna sell your apartment, not come to tea with you and the Queen."

"Do you like tea? I have many different brews."

She laughed. "Nigel mentioned that. So, what's his deal anyway? Did you seriously hire him? Because he's scared off a lot of my realtor buddies. No one knows what to think of him, except that they think he's kidnapped you and is forcing you to sell your home and give him the money."

Adam's eyes widened. "Your friends have no reason to be frightened, Ms… Bev. Nigel wouldn't…" He realized the lie even before he could complete it. He tried again. "Nigel is working for me. He is perfectly good and trustworthy. He is taking care of many things for me."

"Are you sure? Because I can call the cops if you need me to."

"No, thank you. I already have another friend who has offered to call the police. But I'm perfectly fine. Nigel is…" How would he finish that? Coming to California? Maybe he would stay and maybe he wouldn't?

"… your boyfriend?" 

Adam laughed. "No. We're not dating." _Yet_ , he added silently. And later, when he mentioned over dinner (macaroni again) that Bev was the second person who had offered to call the police on Nigel, he gave Adam a strange smile, one that didn't show up in Adam's database of facial features. 

"What did you tell her, Adam?"

"That I'm perfectly capable of calling the police. That I'm fine. That you are taking care of me."

"Did she ask if we were fucking?" Nigel's smile was broader now, more natural.

"Dating. She asked if we were dating."

"And what did you tell her, darling?"

"I told her the truth."

Nigel had looked at him for a while after that, and Adam had been able to look at his eyes for the first time without anxiety. He thought Nigel had interesting eyes. They were a strange color, like an orange green, like the Mali garnets that Adam's dad had set into cufflinks for his weddings and funerals suit. Tonight Nigel's eyes looked like honey. Adam remembered thinking that Nigel was very attractive, when they first met. Now he thought him the most beautiful man he had ever known.

So the meeting was set for the morning, and now Adam lay in bed and watched Nigel sleep, and he thought about how this beautiful man frightened everyone around him, differently than Adam frightened them. Certainly Adam wasn't the kind of person who anyone would feel physically threatened by, but he was strange and he made people uncomfortable. But Nigel didn't frighten him, and he didn't make Nigel uncomfortable, and here they were in bed together, and Adam wanted to kiss him so badly it was a physical ache. He settled for pressing his mouth to Nigel's forehead, as Nigel did so often to him, and then his prominent cheek. He felt Nigel wake, his breath suddenly shallow. Adam began to back away, caught out, but Nigel's strong hand caught him by the back of his head and held him. "Adam…" whispered Nigel, and his eyes were open and dark and fixed on Adam's mouth, his lips parted. Adam swallowed, burying his nerves, and then carefully pressed his lips against Nigel's mouth.

For a moment, Nigel was motionless under him, his chest expanding with a trembling breath, and then his lips parted and sucked gently at Adam's upper lip, and Adam closed his eyes so that he could focus on the warm wet sensation of it. His hands came up to grip the sides of Nigel's neck, and he turned his head at an angle and sank his mouth down into Nigel's, hot and urgent as anything he had ever felt in his life. Nigel stroked his tongue across Adam's bottom lip, stroked again, and then sucked it between his teeth and bit gently down. Adam climbed on top of him to get as much leverage as he could. Nigel's hands rucked up under Adam's shirt and tugged it up, and Adam lifted his body and snagged the shirt over his head, setting it down in the bed next to him. Now Nigel's hands were on the bare skin of his back, their bellies pressed together. Adam could feel himself tipping over, wanting nothing except to bury himself in Nigel's arms, against his body. Violating the promise he had made. 

He forced himself to speak. "I p-promised you I would wait until California." Nigel threaded his strong fingers through Adam's curly hair, stroking over his ear, his cheek, and then trailing a finger across Adam's mouth. Adam kissed his fingertip, and then licked his tongue across the rough salty skin. Nigel inhaled sharply, and then rubbed his wet finger down Adam's throat.

"Are you asking me to help you keep your promise or to help you break it, darling?" 

"It's not fair to ask you to help me either way."

But Adam didn't attempt to escape his arms. They stared at each other until Adam sank back down and kissed him again, long and slow and wet. Nigel arched his back lazily, and Adam's thighs parted to either side of Nigel's hips. Adam could feel Nigel's erection in the crease of his hip and thigh like a thick, heavy promise, and his own penis began to thicken in response. He nipped at Nigel's mouth, the fold of his jaw, the skin over the tattoo of the cabaret girl. It tasted the same as Nigel's unmarked skin-- salty and warm and smoky. Nigel shuddered under him, nosed under the bolt of his jaw, and sank his teeth carefully into Adam's throat. Adam whimpered, pushed his hips downward, and Nigel's hands latched over his thighs and held him still.

"Please don't tease me, Adam." Nigel's voice was shaky and uncertain. Adam could feel the powerful body under him tremble. "I will always stop if you ask me to. You need only tell me. But I am asking… I am fucking begging you. If you are not intending to continue this, please stop now."

Adam froze with Nigel's mouth against his ear. He had gone too far, and now he was hurting Nigel. He felt confused, hot tears well up in his eyes. "I'm sorry Nigel. I'm sorry-- I don't want to hurt you."

Nigel grunted, then rocked his hips back and forth until he was able to get Adam's legs between his thighs. He slid his arms all the around Adam's narrow ribcage and with a heave, flipped them both over so that he was both weighing Adam's body into the mattress and embracing him. "Shhh, darling. You aren't hurting me. You feel so good that I can hardly fucking believe it." Adam tensed briefly, and then went boneless with a sigh. Nigel continued whispering to him. "My angel. My angel. Relax, darling. I just want to hold you. Tell me when you want me to let you go."

Adam didn't need to test him. He felt blissful, totally safe. The smoke and clean sweat scent of Nigel surrounded him, and he breathed him in until his lungs were full of nothing else.

***

Beverly Katz was petite, smaller even than Adam. She was wearing a red leather jacket and black pipe-cleaner pants, and Nigel's immediate impression was that this was a person who wouldn't frustrate easily. She didn't try to shake Adam's hand, which was very insightful of her, and Nigel grudgingly agreed to let her past the doorway. She smiled at him, all teeth. "So you're Nigel. Nice to put a good-looking face to the name." She lifted an eyebrow. "Got a last name?"

Nigel grinned back at her. "Not that you need to know." They sized each other up for a long moment, and then Bev, seeming satisfied, turned to Adam.

"Hello Adam. It's nice to finally meet you." He murmured something at her and retreated to the kitchen to make tea. Unfazed, she glanced around the apartment, her eyes flicking from asset to asset-- the big windows, the clean walls, the sizable open rooms. "This is a really nice place, Adam. When can you be out?"

Nigel scowled at her. "He's lived here all his life. Fucking don't upset him five minutes after you fucking get here."

She held her hands up, but spoke more quietly. "Look, Nigel. I've already got a buyer lined up who is interested in it sight unseen for 2.4 mil. I'll get her up to 3 plus, no problem, now that I can tell her it's prime. This place is super nice. Can I look around?" But she was already walking past him, and he chewed at his lower lip in irritation, following her at little too closely to be polite. He might as well have been across the street for all it bothered her. She looked into the bathroom, peered into both bedrooms, and took several pictures on her phone. Nigel watched nervously for Adam to see her snooping and panic, but he was making tea with his back tensed very determinedly. This was likely going to be a bad night. Nigel approached him cautiously.

"Did you hear that, darling?" He knew there was nothing wrong with Adam's ears, but he wondered if Adam would acknowledge that this was really happening. Adam nodded once, shortly, and Nigel came up behind him, slid his arms very slowly around Adam's body, giving him plenty of time to duck away. Adam only leaned heavily into him, clutching at Nigel's biceps, his eyes squeezed shut. They stood together for a long moment, rocking slightly, while Bev spoke animatedly on the phone to her buyer. They could hear her moving through the apartment, opening doors, exploring Adam's private spaces cheerfully. Adam began stimming on Nigel's arm, and Nigel held him tighter, wishing he could tuck him inside his own body. 

"Hey-- oh." Nigel turned his head, tucking the back of his neck against Adam's ear so that he could look at her while still holding Adam as tightly as possible. He raised his eyebrows at her, and for the first time she looked subdued. "She wants it. She'll pay 3.2 mil for it, including the parking space and rights to the laundry. I take 6% for the sale, which will leave you with a clear 3 mil and change…"

"Three million eight thousand," said Adam. Nigel turned back to him, but his eyes were still squeezed shut. Nigel kissed him on the top of his head, and his ear, and the bolt of his jaw. 

"Is that acceptable, Adam? Or do you want me to keep looking?"

Adam shuddered, and then nodded. "It's what I hoped to get out of it. It's acceptable. When. When do we have to leave?"

Nigel smiled softly at the 'we.' He turned back to Bev, who was looking at them both with a softer expression than she had shown up to this point. She frowned lightly. "Hey, um, so you guys are actually pretty good together. I'm not saying I'm sorry I offered to call the cops on Adam's behalf. Because it didn't sound okay."

Nigel tilted his head at her. "I'm so relieved that Adam's realtor approves of my relationship with him."

Against him, Adam made a soft snorting sound. "Was that sarcasm, Nigel?"

Nigel rumbled a laugh. "Yes darling. That was sarcasm." He kissed Adam's cheek, and then again. 

"It was easy for me to recognise this time because I know that you wouldn't care whether our realtor approves of anything you do." Adam smiled, his eyes finally open. He heaved a sigh, and then stepped out of Nigel's arms to take up his tea. "Let's sign the papers. I only have an hour until it's time for lunch."

***

Adam let Nigel deal with everything-- arranging for the movers and the storage facility and calling for temporary housing. He decided, more or less by flip of a coin, on San Diego. It cost less to live there, and the stargazing was far better. Since Nigel had no opinion, or rather refused to offer one, Adam had announced it after lunch (macaroni for him, leftover Indian takeout for Nigel). Nigel had simply nodded, a small smile on his lips that could have meant fifty different things. Adam had disconsolately began to organize his books, feeling unsteady and miserable and wondering why he was doing this to himself. Nigel watched him, touched him when he walked by, but otherwise left him alone. By four in the afternoon, Adam was just staring at the wall while Nigel chatted on the phone with a dozen different people, setting up a moving company for the end of the week.

By supper time, he had locked himself in his father's old room and wouldn't come out. 

It wasn't, he reasoned, that he didn't want to move. But a dream of a thing and the reality of it were so different as to be almost unrelated. When he dreamed, he imagined himself wrapped around Nigel's strong back as they roared over the brilliant desert, illuminated by a billion stars, all of which he could call by name. The reality of it was wondering whether he should pack his father's clothes to take with him or to go to Goodwill. Harlan needed to be called, and the thought of Nigel calling to invite Harlan over cheered Adam for a moment. He stared at the dusty dresser, the shallow bowl with his dad's watch and those cufflinks that were the color of Nigel's eyes. He stared until he couldn't see anymore, and couldn't make himself shift even to turn on a light. 

Nigel found him there, sitting in the dark. Without a word, he knelt and gathered Adam against him, hefted him up in a bridal carry, and took him across the hallway to his bedroom. "Do you want to shower, gorgeous?" he asked against Adam's ear, and Adam shook his head, so Nigel laid him out on the bed on his belly and then sank down on top of him. He wrapped his arms around Adam's biceps, pressed his chest down on Adam's back, and snugged Adam's ass in the cradle of his hips. He kissed the nape of Adam's neck and up into his hair before tucking his nose against Adam's ear and settling. Adam was crushed under him, unable to move. It was blissful. He was asleep in moments.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan this. Blame Adam. Nigel was willing to wait. Seriously, guys.

In the morning, as they lay in bed together, Adam stroked his hand down Nigel's back, mapping each muscle as his fingertips skimmed over it. The knowing of things had never been a problem for him-- it had to do with interest, with desire. He knew stars because he wanted to. Now he wanted to know Nigel, so he murmured the names of muscle groups-- levator scapulae, trapezius, serratus posterior superior, romboideus, latissimus-- like a prayer. Adam had been to church every so often, and he likened this to praying the rosary. It brought him peace when he should be in anguish, facing down the last two days in the only home he had ever known. Nigel's shoulder blade (infraspinatus) moved under his hand as he woke and pressed back into Adam's body.

Nigel stretched and yawned hugely, rolling over and squashing Adam under him. Adam sputtered and giggled, shoving fruitlessly at Nigel's superior bulk. "Morning, gorgeous…" 

"Nigel!" Adam squirmed and wriggled until he had shifted far enough to heave himself on top of Nigel. Nigel embraced him and rolled them both back over. He kissed Adam's throat and under his jaw, nuzzled his ear, and then dropped a kiss on his open mouth. Adam laughed as he took hold of Nigel's hair, pulled Nigel's face away only to rise up and kiss him again. Nigel was smiling at him, his eyes soft, and Adam recognised this facial expression as something he had seen before. "What are you thinking when you look at me like that?"

"I don't look at anyone but you like this, angel." Nigel thought for a moment, and then, "I am thinking that I am the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet, Adam. I'm amazed that someone who has lived a life like I have lived could be allowed to be here, in bed with you, even for a moment." He sighed, thumbs rubbing over Adam's cheeks. "I'm thinking that…" but he didn't finish this sentence. Adam kissed his nose.

"What, Nigel?"

Nigel shook his head, his expression different now, eyebrows tilted upwards at the center with a crease between them, and his lips downturned at the corners. Dismay, sadness, sorrow. Adam took Nigel's face in his hands, kissed the corners of his mouth. "You were happy, and now you are sad."

"I thought you couldn't read facial expressions."

"I study them," Adam asserted. "I can recognize the shapes of features like eyes and lips and I can associate them with emotions. It doesn't come naturally to me. Some people call it mind blindness. I think that term is inaccurate, because I'm not blind. That's potentially insulting to people who are actually blind. For me expressions are a second language that I have to overtly translate, and I get it wrong a lot because expressions are made of many different discrete pieces and combinations. But I can see the crease between your eyes and the shape of your mouth and that means sadness to me."

Nigel nodded but was quiet for a moment longer, stroking Adam's face and hair. "I'm not sad because of something that has happened. Don't worry, darling." He placed one more kiss on Adam's mouth and then released him to climb out of bed. "We need to talk about how we are going to get to California, Adam. But first I'm going to smoke and them I'm going to shower." And he walked through the door and out into the hallway. Adam heard the balcony door open and then close. He lay in bed for a while after that, reviewing the conversation to suss out its meaning. Nigel was sad. Nigel had said he wasn't sad about anything that had already happened. Therefore Nigel must be sad about something he was anticipating. Adam was no mind reader; probably the furthest thing from one. He could barely comprehend his own fears until they were upon him. He resolved to be available if Nigel wanted to talk. He climbed out of bed with less weight on his shoulders than he thought might be there.

***

"Drive? You want to fucking drive to California?" Nigel was deeply underwhelmed at this idea. "How many miles is that, Adam?"

Adam's forehead creased, and then he walked over to his laptop and woke it up. He hummed while he typed up a quick storm. "3000 miles."

"And how many days would that take us?"

Adam hummed some more. "3 days if we don't stop. A week if we do stop."

Nigel nodded. "So you are telling me that you would be fine a week on the road, stopping in a new place every fucking night, sleeping in different fucking beds, eating in different fucking restaurants, and otherwise being fucking trapped in that little Camry for fucking 9 hours a day." He raised his eyebrows at Adam's increasingly wide eyes. "Not to mention we would need to stop and used the facilities in gas stations, rest stops, and all sorts of other fucking places. We would have to eat in the car."

"Dad never let me eat in the car."

"Well," Nigel said, as if that settled it. He waited for Adam to come to the same conclusion.

"What are our other options besides driving?"

Nigel had been thinking of that particular question for a week now. He settled down comfortably and patted the couch next to him. Adam obediently sat down next to him and Nigel threw an arm around his shoulder, squeezing him close. Adam turned into him, his eyes bright. "Correct me when I get it wrong darling, but nothing is ideal. Driving is the second worst option, in my opinion. Taking a bus would be worse. Taking the train would be only slightly better, because your American rail system is laughably bad. So my first choice will be a flight. We ship the Triumph and your dad's car, if you want it."

Adam shook his head lightly against Nigel's breast. It was his injured side, which had healed well but still ached deep, and he was pleased that Adam remained aware of it and careful. "No, I'm giving the car to Harlan. I don't drive." He subsided for a moment, and then, "Train?"

Nigel nodded. "Look it up, gorgeous. If you can make sense of it." So Adam got back on the laptop and spent a good ten minutes with his forehead creased in perplexity. 

"We'd have to change trains twice. And it's still 3 days." Nigel nodded. "How long is the flight?"

"Six hours and change, darling. We could land at San Diego and be at the hotel within an hour. And from there we can coordinate the rest of the search." Adam had already spent a few days tracking down homes that he wanted Nigel to call on, and they had narrowed it down to two-- one townhome a block from the beach on Santa Monica Ave and the other an actual house Near Mission Bay Park with a pool and a garage with room for the Triumph. Nigel had outright vetoed anything directly on or near the boardwalk, citing his own sanity as well as Adam's desire for privacy. Adam was enamored of the house, but the townhome was so close to the ocean that he had decided he needed to see them both before he decided. Realtors that Beverly Katz knew had already been notified. Everything was coming together, with Adam by turns excited and reluctant. Nigel knew that the trip was going to be hard on him, and the charms of a new city would be lost on him for a while. His kissed Adam's cheek and stroked his curly hair.

***

Harlan and the movers both came around eleven. Harlan stood for a long moment in the kitchen, and Adam knew without asking that he was sad. Adam didn't know what to say to him, other than goodbye. But Harlan had known him for a very long time, so when Adam presented him with the keys to the Camry and his father's watch, he nodded without objecting. His eyes widened when Adam put his arms around him in a brief hug. Harlan smiled at him. "Well, Adam. Nigel seems to have been good for you after all, eh?"

Adam simply nodded. "He has been good to me, Harlan."

"You're paying him to be good to you."

Adam rolled his eyes, exasperated. "We aren't even going to have sex until after we get to California. Nigel can stay if he wants to, but he's not under any monetary obligation." One of the movers nearly dropped a glass in the kitchen, and they both turned to look. The mover blushed and left for one of the back rooms. Harlan sighed.

"I know that I am an old man, and I may not remember what that first rush of love feels like. But if he hurts you, you know how to get ahold of me." He scowled at Nigel, an expression Adam was familiar with, and then took the opportunity to hug Adam again. "I love you too, you know."

Adam nodded and smiled at him. "I love you, Harlan." Harlan scoffed gently, his eyes suspiciously damp, and squeezed Adam's shoulder before leaving. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching surprisingly efficient movers pack up his entire world. Most of his father's things did go to Goodwill, the few things Adam was keeping already packed in with his own things-- a few books, the cufflinks, and photographs. Nigel was doing all the directing, much of it with his arms around Adam, sheltering him from the carnage of it all. By four in the afternoon, it was done. Even the Triumph was being transported on the truck, although Nigel had insisted in driving it up into the truck himself. He had patted it surreptitiously, and though Adam saw from the window, he didn't tease Nigel about it. He knew all too well the pain of separation now. They spent the rest of the evening cleaning the entire apartment. Beverly had offered to supply cleaners, but Nigel had refused, and Adam knew that was about him, that he would need to be worn out to sleep tonight.

The bed had gone with the truck, and the other bed to charity, so after Adam had shared his last meal of macaroni in this his childhood home, he curled up on an old blanket with an unfamiliar pillow and let Nigel pull him close. For a while they were quiet, and then Adam spoke. "Harlan believes that I love you, Nigel."

A quick intake of breath behind him, and then, "What do you believe, angel?"

Adam thought about it. Love wasn't something that he had much varied experience with. He loved his father, and he loved Harlan. He had liked Beth and it might have become love had she continued to want him in her life, but she hadn't and it didn't. Nigel had entered his life with a dramatic misunderstanding, but he had always treated Adam with respect-- more than respect. With wonder and kindness, like Adam was worth knowing. And Adam had stitched up his first knife wound, and kissed a man for the first time, and had allowed Nigel free access to touch him, which Nigel had never abused, not once. He trusted Nigel with an intensity that he had never felt for anyone else. "I don't know if I love you." He took a breath. "But I trust you." He hesitated, and then rushed ahead. "And I want you to touch me. Please." 

At that, Nigel nuzzled the nape of his neck, still damp from his shower. "Is that an invitation, gorgeous?" Adam smiled, tucking his head to give Nigel more access. Nigel licked across his skin, nipped at the knobs of his spine, and then turned over on his back, hauling Adam to splay open on top of him. "You want me to wear you out, angel, so you can sleep?" His teeth closed over the skin below Adam's ear gently. "I need you to tell me what you want. I won't do anything unless you tell me, angel." Adam was feeling increasingly breathless.

"Yes Nigel. Can you… forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive, baby. I don't want to wait another night to put my hands on you. " Adam was relieved that Nigel understood, and wanted him in return. The intense stress of the day had eviscerated him, and now he just wanted to feel good. Nigel licked at Adam's earlobe. "Do you want me to make you come, darling? Do you want me to use my hands, just like this?"

"Yes, Nigel. Please, yes." 

***

Nigel's hands roved over Adam's lean body, tugging his shirt up to rub at the skin of his belly. His broad, rough fingers sank below Adam's waistband, and pulled it down, Adam bending his knees to allow Nigel to shove his sleep pants and underwear below his knees and then off. He parted his thighs wide, arching his back against Nigel's chest. Nigel's hand rubbed up over the velvety skin of his inner thighs before he tucked his fingers under Adam's balls. Adam jumped against him, and then groaned at the feel of Nigel's hands on him. Nigel took his balls in one hand and his rapidly filling cock in the other, and then just held him there for a moment while he kissed every bit of Adam's skin that he could reach, murmuring endearments and obscenities both into his ear. Adam responded with breathy, desperate sighs that made Nigel want to devour him whole.

Adam shifted against him so that he could kiss Nigel's mouth, and his hands bent back to grasp the sides of Nigel's head. Nigel began to stroke him between kisses, his strong hands squeezing gently at first. Adam's feet scrabbled for purchase on the hardwood floor, and then he shoved backwards until Nigel could brace himself against the wall behind them and balance Adam in his lap. Adam fished around in the blankets distractedly before handing Nigel a half-full bottle of Astroglide. Nigel laughed, a strange airy feeling filling his lungs like light. "You planned this, angel? Did you think about this all day?" Adam kissed him quiet, mouth hot and wet and soft, totally beyond words. He popped the cap and squeezed a good palmful out, stroking it thickly over Adam's cock and balls. Adam groaned, lighting Nigel up with desire for him, for this, for anything Adam wanted to give him for as long as it lasted. Adam began rocking his hips back into Nigel's own trapped erection, and forward into Nigel's hand. For long, delicious moments, the only sounds in his head were the wet sounds of his own fist and the increasingly loud moaning of the boy in his lap. Nigel clasped an arm around Adam's chest and spread Adam's legs wide with his knees. Adam's head fell back against his shoulder. He thrust up into Nigel's hand, then tensed and cried and panted and came all over Nigel's hand with a deep shuddery moan of pleasure. 

Nigel froze under him, and then groaned out Adam's name. He shifted Adam gently to the floor and then straddled his body, his heavy cock already in hand. Adam reached for him, and his grey-dark eyes glittered in the dim light, and as Adam put his hands on him to help pull him towards orgasm, he could have sworn that Adam was some inhuman creature of exquisite beauty, looking up at him in the dark with red lips parted and swollen, and Nigel felt the ecstasy of a worshipper, his orgasm ripped out of him as he spent hot over Adam's skin like an offering.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter-- I've been ill, (totally normal-- I have migraines) so I am splitting this into two. So, one more chapter (I think?) after this one. Bless, and thank you for your love!

Despite their best efforts, neither of them slept all that well; Nigel because he felt too old to be sleeping on the floor, his healing stab wound aching and itching by turns. Adam was restless on top of him, whimpering out unpleasant dreams and waking breathless and sweaty. Nigel could feel Adam's unconscious tears pearling against his skin and drying against his collarbone. At the edge of dawn, they both gave up trying. Nigel pulled Adam up off the floor and shepherded him into the bathroom. Adam allowed himself to be guided without protest, and he stood with his forehead pressed against Nigel's collarbone while Nigel soaped and cleaned his body, massaging his tense shoulders and kissing against his hair. They dressed in the silence, Adam passively and Nigel with growing concern. Nigel sat him down with a paper bowl of cereal on the floor while he called for a cab to JFK.

It wasn't until they were loaded in the cab that Adam turned away from Nigel, hunching his shoulders, and whispered an anguished, "Why are you doing this to me?" that Nigel got an inkling of how bad it might be. He didn't answer, and he didn't try to touch Adam when his back was turned. Adam began rocking and stimming, the fingers of his right hand hitting rhythmically against his left shoulder, before they were even over the Harlem River leg of the Triborough bridge. When a high keening noise escaped his lips, Nigel decided he had to try before Adam was lost to himself. "Adam. Adam, darling. May I hold you?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" Adam turned halfway to him, his eyes wide. "I don't want to go. I hate this. I hate you."

Nigel nodded, though it felt like a physical strike against the inside of his ribs. "I know, Adam. It's okay; I don't mind if you hate me." He was such a fucking liar, but he could pull this off. It was just another negotiation, one of hundreds. If it hurt more than any of them, he knew that eventually he would heal from it. He pressed on. "Let me put my arms around you. Come here and sit on my lap." For a long moment, Adam didn't respond, and then he climbed awkwardly over Nigel and straddled him, his eyes closed tightly against the join of Nigel's neck and shoulder, dark lashes fluttering and breath hot and short against his skin. Nigel didn't waste any time with petting him; he wrapped Adam's body with both arms and squeezed him as hard as he could. It wasn't ideal-- it would be better if Nigel were on top of him, but it was something. Adam rocked against him, that same heartbreaking keening escaping his lungs. Nigel's eye caught the cab driver's eyes and raised his eyebrows in challenge. The cab driver just shook her head and turned back to the road. Nigel was certain she thought they were having sex. He grinned a little at the irony of it. Here he was, his beautiful boy rocking in his lap, and sex was the furthest thing from his mind. Well, maybe not the _furthest_ , he thought, as Adam's hips pressed more tightly against his.

***

Adam felt only slightly less like he was going to throw up perched on Nigel's thighs in the back of a cab. A small faraway part of his mind knew what they must look like, and an even tinier part actually cared. The vast majority of his thoughts were occupied with an anxiety so severe he wasn't certain where he was, or what he was doing, or why. Everything remotely rational was locked away in the face of the terrible thing that he had done. His home-- the only home he had ever known, was gone forever. Money in the bank. His father was dead and he was now homeless and nothing would ever be alright again. The only tether keeping him from dissolving into mindless anguish was the squeeze of muscular arms around him, the press of the warm body against his, the deeply comforting smell of cigarettes and Adam's own soap filling his lungs. Nigel. Nigel. 

"Yes, my darling?" Adam realized he most have spoken out loud. He shook his head against Nigel's shoulder, and began the long process of pulling himself back together piece by piece. He spoke it out loud, because he could, because it helped.

"This is s-something I know." Deep breath. "I know I am in the back of a cab. I know it's a cab because it smells like unwashed people and old leather and stale food." Nigel snorted against him, and he squeezed Nigel's chest lightly. "I know I am in Nigel's lap," he continued, voice a little stronger. "I know it's Nigel's lap because he smells like cigarettes and like my soap and my laundry detergent, because he has been living with me for a week and he only owns three shirts." Nigel kissed him. "And he is the only person in the world who is allowed to kiss me."

"Amen to that, angel."

"I know that…" He stumbled, as he tried to push his perception outward. Cab. Nigel. Homeless. "I know that my home is gone." His voice shuddered, but he managed. "I know because I sold it to a stranger. A stranger is going to live in the place where I grew up. I can never go back." Nigel kissed him again, squeezed him tighter, and he felt himself--slightly-- unclench. He took a deep, shivery breath. "I know that we are going to the airport. I know because I bought tickets. The flight is 6 hours and 23 minutes, but because we are flying through three time zones, we will be arriving 3 hours and 23 minutes after we take off."

"We're adding three hours to our lifespans, Adam," Nigel murmured.

"We aren't, actually. It seems like that, but 6 hours and 23 minutes will have actually passed for our bodies. Clock time is only an arbitrary measurement of reality." Adam felt justified in pointing this out, and Nigel nosed his ear in return. They had already discussed this, and Nigel had pointed out that he had added 6 additional hours to his life by flying from Bucharest to New York, and by the time they got to San Diego he would be 9 hours younger to Adam's paltry 3. Adam had objected until Nigel exploded into laughter, his face red with mirth. Adam remembered it now, and his lips curled up in a smile. "You are teasing me, Nigel,"

"Perhaps a little, iubitule."

Adam fell silent for a moment, his breathing beginning to even out. He felt moderately calmer, his body unwinding. He rolled the word Nigel had used around in his mouth. It tasted sweet on his tongue. "What does "iubitule" mean?

"Lover."

Adam sighed softly against him, his body relaxing. A plane roared overhead, and he found that he could breathe again.

***

The airport was an unpleasant wash of smells and noises and bodies and the echoing intercom droning on and on overhead. Adam clung stoically to his hand as Nigel brought them up to the counter. He felt a momentary tickle of fear as his passport and greencard were examined at the American flight counter, but nothing flagged the system. Nigel had reluctantly sent his gun ahead on the truck, knowing his passport combined with a gun would raise a flag, and he didn't want to have to deal with Customs with Adam holding himself so tremulously together. Adam presented his driver's license mechanically. They were given boarding passes at the counter, and made it through security without incident. These machines were more sophisticated than the ones in Bucharest, and Adam was momentarily fascinated by his body on the imaging panel, and then even more fascinated with Nigel's, to Nigel's pleased chagrin. Once past security, they settled down at the gate, Adam clutching his hand still like a lifeline. Nigel wanted to hold him even here, in the middle of the morning rush of business suits, but he contented himself that he could do so on the plane. They had decided on business class-- the extra expense seemed worthwhile to get larger seats and quicker seating. And once Adam was on the plane, their carry-ons stowed and their tray tables in the upright position, he seemed resigned rather than anxious. 

Taking off lit Adam up with a pleasure that Nigel couldn't help but smile at. He guessed the pressure of the plane's g-force might be comforting. Nigel didn't mind flying, but it wasn't his favorite thing. Too often he had done it while running from something. Now, as he gazed over at Adam, a tendril of something soft squeezed around his heart, something he flatly refused to put a name to. Adam was perched on the window seat, gazing avidly out the window. Nigel was pleased, and gladly allowed Adam to tug him close to peer out at the city so far beneath them. When the flight attendant came around with drinks, Nigel snagged a few tiny bottles of whiskey and Adam contented himself with a cherry soda. The peace lasted almost halfway through the flight, and Nigel allowed himself to catnap, worn from the emotional day on top of a night of poor sleep. On the floor. His thoughts drifted to Adam's body arching over him, and he closed his eyes.

Without warning, Adam abruptly got up and pushed past Nigel, who squeezed his arm in question. Adam ignored him, tugging out of his loose grasp and walking directly to the lavatory without looking back. Nigel watched the narrow pull-to door with its 'Occupied' light intently, and after five long minutes there was a short line. A flight attendant knocked on the door and made a polite noise. "Sir, are you alright? Do you need assistance?" Nigel moved out of his seat, looming up in front of the attendant, who smiled pleasantly at him. "Sir, would you mind using the lavatory in the back? I'm very sorry for the inconvenience." Nigel ignored him.

"Adam, darling. Will you let me come in?" Silence. Then a thump, which put Nigel into high alert. "Adam," he repeated, keeping his voice calm. "Iubitule." The attendant began to look worried.

"Is he alright?"

"He's fucking fine Can you open the door?"

"Sir, I don't think-"

"Open it or I fucking will." Nigel didn't have to posture. He was ready to rip the door off its little aluminum hinges. The attendant's eyes widened hugely. Nigel thought maybe he would be getting arrested when they landed, but at the moment his priorities were all Adam. "Angel, open the fucking door."

"Sir!"

Right before Nigel began to pry at the flimsy frame, the door slid open and Adam reached out to take hold of his arm. Nigel squeezed in to the tiny little room and managed to shut the door on the flabbergasted man outside. Adam leapt into his arms. "I hate you I hate you I hate you," Adam wept against his cheek. Nigel caught him up against his hip, lifting him with complete disregard to his injury. He kissed what skin he could reach, salty with tears, and rocked Adam fiercely. 

"We are going to be fine, iubitule. Iti promit. Iti promit. Promit că nu te voi părăsi. I won't leave you," he murmured into Adam's neck. The slightly-less-than-polite knocking continued sporadically, but Nigel ignored it, all his attention focused on the shaking boy in his arms. "Iti promit, iubitule." Slowly, slowly, Adam slumped against him. Nigel waited for his breath to calm, waited a moment or two more, and then fumbled the door back open. He was greeted by two attendents and the intensly curious stares of the full business class. No one was even trying to pretend that their in-flight movie was more interesting than this. Nigel gave an all-encompassing sneer and carried Adam against his hip like a child, his long legs hanging, back to their seat. He settled Adam back in his lap, so that Adam's back was to the rest of the plane and he could look out the window if he wanted. He kissed his face again and again, stroking through his lank, curly hair. Adam leaned against his neck, hands in his lap, exhausted.

"Nigel, I don't hate you," he whispered. "I don't hate you."

"Yes, baby, I know. I know."

A stir of curiosity. "How do you know?"

"You wouldn't let me hold you if you hated me, darling."

A pause, a breath. "What did you say to me? Was it Romanian? I couldn't understand you."

Nigel squeezed him hard. "'Iti promit.' I promise you. And, 'Promit că nu te voi părăsi.' I promise you that I will never leave you."

"Oh," Adam breathed. He smiled, like a weak ray of sunshine. "Good."

He dozed for the rest of the flight, exhausted, and Nigel held him and kept watch, and fortunately no one tried to bother them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 80% incredibly explicit porn. I have no idea where it came from, because I have always been a poetic fade-to-black sort of person and I can't believe I just wrote this. I can't believe I am _publishing_ it. So, um, thank you all so much for your incredibly affirming support. There is absolutely no way this would have been written had you not lifted me up like you have. Thank you forever. There may be timestamps? but not for a while, bc I'm working on something. Heh heh heh.

San Diego airport was a blur, and Adam didn't let go of Nigel's hand even when they were pulling their checked bags off the luggage carousel. They were staying at the Homewood Suites near the airport because Adam had insisted on a kitchen. The reservations were for three days, but he felt like he could sleep for a week now-- the last few days had emotionally compromised him, and he didn't trust himself to make good decisions right now. Since Nigel refused to make command decisions about anything as big as the house Adam was purchasing, he was on the hook for it. His lips twisted wryly-- if he was the fish, he had hooked himself. Nigel instructed the cab driver, his voice rumbling deep in his chest as Adam slumped back against him. Throughout the short ride, he never stirred, and Nigel had to shift him bodily to get him out of the cab and into the lobby. It smelled of home things-- maple syrup and chocolate chip cookies, soothing. Nigel checked them in, acquired a luggage cart, loaded their carry-ons and larger bags, and then hefted Adam into his arms and deposited him on top of the bags. Adam gazed up at him, bleary with exhaustion, and Nigel just grinned at him as he shouldered the cart and wheeled them to the elevators.

Their room was a neat, clean space with deep blue walls and a large framed photograph of the harbor out their window. Adam stumbled straight to one of the soft-looking neutral couches and curled into himself, back to the room. In a moment, he felt Nigel cover him with a thick, warm blanket. A soft touch to the back of his head. His shoes removed. 

When he woke, the room was dark and quiet. A light from the bathroom spilled white light out across the neutral carpet. Adam rose and stretched and looked around for Nigel. His eyes fell on a folded note on the table, next to a plate with two chocolate chip cookies on it. He reached for the note, a bolt of fear knifing his belly at the thought that Nigel had had enough of him, but on opening it, it read 'Gone for cereal and macaroni, darling. Back soon.' in Nigel's neat printed hand. His cell number was printed underneath, as if Adam didn't already have it memorized, but it was comforting. Adam crawled off the couch and into the bathroom, urinated for what felt like a full minute at least, and then tugged off his pants rather than tucking himself back in. He pulled his shirt off as he puzzled out the workings of the shower through trial and error. Once he was under the heavy, deeply satisfying spray, he let himself relax and think over the last few days.

Nigel had gone so completely above and beyond what Adam had thought he had initially needed. He had done every bit of the heavy lifting, protecting him when he was comatose with anxiety, carrying him when he couldn't bring himself to walk. Adam recognized that without Nigel, this trip might have been impossible. As the heat soaked into his skin, he realized also that without Nigel, he might not have _wanted_ to come, might have lost impetus and stayed where he had always been, surrounded by his childhood and forever shadowed by it. Now he was in a new place without any memories but those he made for himself. The thought was terrifying, but more than that it was exhilarating. He knew without a doubt the first memory he wanted to make here, before he looked at houses, before he had to deal with the stress of moving in to a new space. His memories of Nigel arching up from beneath him, his hands and the wet heat of his mouth and the electric spike of desire which had frissioned through his spine were already too far away, dulled by the difficulty of the day, and he wanted to renew them with an intensity that he had never before believed himself capable of. 

The click of the outside door startled him momentarily, and he called out, "Nigel? I'm in the shower!" in hopeful invitation. The thump of a burden being set down sounded over the water, and then Nigel was in the bathroom with him, pulling off his clothes and throwing them out into the room as he stepped naked into the shower behind Adam. 

"Feeling better, iubitule?" His voice was a rumbled growl against the nape of Adam's neck. Adam turned into him and pressed his wet body flush up against Nigel, tugging him under the spray and into a kiss. He could feel Nigel tense very briefly, perhaps with surprise, before his hands were everywhere at once, palming hot over Adam's back and shoulders before dropping under his ass and squeezing upward, hard. Adam obliged him willingly, throwing his arms around Nigel's strong shoulders and allowing himself to be lifted up, wrapping his thighs around Nigel's hips as Nigel pressed him back into the shower wall, not breaking the kiss except to gasp in breath.

Adam hooked his ankles tightly at the small of Nigel's back and held on. He could feel Nigel's muscles tense and flex against his thighs and Nigel's hands press bruises into his skin. Nigel's cock was a slippery hardness against his own and the incredible hot intimacy of his balls against Nigel's balls as Nigel groaned kisses into his mouth, against his throat was intense. "I want you, Nigel," he kissed into Nigel's cheek. "I want you, please, inside me, I want you." Nigel pulled back and studied him with his dark, heavy-lidded eyes, and Adam memorized that look, knew exactly what it meant for once in his life, and he squirmed against Nigel to squeeze his legs even tighter. 

"I'm taking you to bed, Adam." Nigel gazed openly at him, eyes on his mouth, and eased him gently to the shower floor before he turned off the shower and took Adam's hand to lead him out into the bedroom. Adam snagged every towel he could reach, found himself smiling where he had expected to be nervous and afraid.

"We're wet, Nigel. We'll soak the bedsheets!" Nigel tugged the towels out of his grasp with a grin and wrapped one around Adam's body, rubbing him briskly. He turned away and ripped the comforter and the top sheet off the bed, laid down the remaining towels, and then turned back and bodily picked Adam up and tossed him on his back on the bed, Adam laughing in delight at their shared eagerness. Nigel bent over to kiss him once, twice, and then turned away to rummage in his carry-on, returning triumphant with the little bottle of Astroglide and a condom packet. Adam beamed. "Did you bring those on the plane?"

"Always prepared, iubitule, my darling Adam." Nigel sank down on top of him, knees on either side of his thighs and hands on his shoulders. Adam reached out to run his hand over the dark and twisted scar on Nigel's flank, and then more gently over the newer one, still pink with healing. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and put his lips over the older scar, licking against the rucked and uneven skin. Nigel exhaled out over him, shivering. "Adam…"

"I'm sorry that I've been so hard to deal with, Nigel." He sank back to catch Nigel's eye. Nigel was still for a moment, his eyes soft and dark, his mouth swollen and relaxed in a gentle line, lips parted. Adam read tenderness there, and acceptance, and regard. Nigel shook his head slowly.

"Adam, the only things that have been hard were not punching that fucking flight attendant in the face, and my dick, practically the entire way here." He carded a hand through Adam's wet curls. "You understand me, darling?" He kissed Adam on the forehead. "You have not." Kiss. "Ever." Kiss. "Been anything to deal with." Kiss. "But an absolute fucking joy." He drew back to lift Adam's chin up, and Adam allowed it, because he wanted to see. Nigel's words sank into him like pennies into a fountain, to flash in the sun forever at the bottom. Nigel kissed his mouth. "You make me want to live."

Adam's whole body shuddered at the honesty in Nigel's soft voice. He breathed against Nigel's open mouth, tangled his hands in Nigel's hair, and pulled him down. "Don't talk any more, Nigel. Please fuck me. Please." Nigel groaned into his mouth, kissed and licked across his jaw and neck, Adam's body lighting up like fireflies at every drag of Nigel's mouth across his skin. Nigel lifted away from him for a moment; Adam heard the pop of a cap and a wet squirting, and then Nigel nosed against his chin. 

"Ever done this before, angel?"

Adam shook his head, smiling. "I've had sex with a woman, but I've never been anally penetrated." Nigel closed his eyes at that, a flickering smile on his lips.

"Adam, I'm not gonna lie; I am really happy to hear that." He grinned, and not for the first time Adam thought him beautiful, his happiness leaking everywhere.

"You want to be my first." It wasn't a question-- Nigel's joyful reaction broadcast it into all corners of the room, and possibly beyond. 

"I am _going to be_ your first." Nigel dropped a kiss over the nipple above Adam's heart. Adam rose up to press into the kiss, and felt Nigel's hand between his thighs slip inward and up against his perineum, and lower to stroke gently against his anus. Adam arched up immediately, moaning at the intense pleasure of the touch. His hands clutched at the towels and he spread his thighs wide, falling open and vulnerable.

"Nigel, feels _so good_ ," he groaned out. "Oh, Nigel, yes, oh!" Nigel kept kissing him, licking lower across his belly as his finger pushed in a slow circle, gently pressing deeper into Adam's body. He paused, his breath on Adam's flushed shaft.

"Adam, I've never put my mouth on another man's dick. You are my first as well," he murmured. And then he nosed up against Adam's cock and sank his mouth over the head, licking slowly against Adam's glans.

Adam's body electrified at the same time his mind did at Nigel's admission. He was writhing so hard, senseless with pleasure, that Nigel had to hold down his hips with his other arm, mouth sinking further down on his cock, his bottom lip sucking gently against the frenulum as his finger circled inside Adam's anus, pressing in past the knuckle. For a moment he was still, and Adam felt his body vibrate in the tremulous moment just before he would normally tip over. Nigel's mouth slipped off his glans to begin pressing kisses against his thighs. He pulled his finger out gently, squirted out more lube, and then pressed in with two. Adam could only breath shallowly, so aroused he was astonished that he hadn't already crested into orgasm. Nigel spread his fingers and rotated them, a small discomfort that soon faded, as he continued to drop wet kisses on Adam's glans and shaft and scrotum. He didn't drop his mouth back over Adam's glans; he must have sensed that Adam was far too close. Adam wasn't sure how he felt about that, wanting this to last forever and simultaneously wanting to detonate immediately into a thousand points of light. He reached down and grasped at Nigel's jaw, pulling him back up over his body and into another kiss. Nigel smelled and tasted like Adam's own sex, and Adam felt a little crazed, licking his own precome out of Nigel's mouth as he took a third finger.

Nigel opened him up for what felt like an excruciatingly long time, stroking his anal walls and gently pressing against his prostate, a feeling like Adam was coming without coming, that made him turn his head hard against Nigel's shoulder and groan through gritted teeth. Finally, he cried mercy. "Nigel, if you don't fuck me I can't be responsible for what happens." 

***

Nigel let out a surprised laugh, kissed Adam against his flushed mouth, and carefully pulled out his fingers. He settled back on his thighs and fumbled briefly for the condom, tore it open with his teeth, and slid it on in one clean, well-practiced motion. He dripped lube over his sheathed cock, almost afraid to touch himself; he was dangerously close just from watching Adam writhe under him, from playing his body like a beautiful instrument. Adam was more sensitive than anyone he had been with, ever, and it amazed him at the same time it burned like possession in his belly. "Adam. Tell me to stop if you need me to." He waited for Adam's nod before he nudged his cockhead up against Adam's slippery hole and pressed slowly, steadily inside him.

Adam arched powerfully under him, gritting out his name over and over. Nigel sank in balls deep, so intensely _inside_ Adam that his mind blanked for a moment . Adam's hands clutched at his hips and ass as Nigel's thighs pressed him completely open. They just breathed together, Adam's fingers flexing against his hips so hard that Nigel hoped he would leave bruises. Finally, Adam shoved his hips upward. "Nigel please!" Nigel gripped Adam's shoulder hard and pulled out, and slowly back in, and again, and Adam's thighs wrapped around him like they did in the shower, only this time Nigel had all the leverage he needed. He fucked into Adam deep and slow until Adam was keening under him, his teeth biting against Nigel's collarbone. Nigel could only groan Adam's name, words lost, panting out adoration over his flushed cheeks and neck and shoulders. Adam tilted his hips up further, forcing Nigel's cockhead hard against the smooth bulge of his prostate, and Nigel knew he had moments only. Adam shuddered and keened, fingers pressed so tightly into the tensing muscle of Nigel's ass that he relished the thought of the bloody half-moon cuts he was going to bear for a week, and he bowed his head, mind shorting out, desperately hanging on. 

With a great shudder, Adam locked up under him, pressed his head back into the pillow, and let out an inarticulate scream that absolutely was going to wake half the hotel. His cock spurted pearly hot come halfway up his belly, and he screamed again, and this time it was definitely Nigel's name. Nigel groaned and seized and his orgasm blasted down his spine like a white-hot bolt of lightning, shooting out of his cock and into Adam as his vision whited out. 

When he came back to himself, he was sprawled over Adam's body, both of them wheezing. Nigel raised himself up on an elbow, and it was the wrong one, his injury protesting its extended abuse with an intense burn of pain. He grunted and tried again with the other elbow, hauling himself up to Adam's mouth, their bellies slick together but beginning to drag, the drying come pulling against the wiry hair on Nigel's chest. Nigel kissed him, and Adam lifted his hands to Nigel's face and kissed back, sleepily, a smile felt rather than seen against Nigel's lips. "Alright, Adam?" he whispered.

Adam kissed his cheek, his nose, his mouth again. "Stay, Nigel. Stay with me," and then softer but still distinctly, and with a perfect accent, "Promit că nu te voi părăsi." Nigel's heart caught in his throat. Any thought of leaving the bed to wash was wiped from his mind. He nosed against Adam's shoulder, kissed him, settled against him.

"Iti promit, iubitule," he murmured. "Iti promit."

 

~fin (for now)


End file.
